Desiring Other Times
by YuliaVolkovaROX
Summary: AU: The Wizarding World was never intelligent, and Harry Potter is passed over as the BoyWhoLived. His brother stands to gain all, thanks to the prophecy, while Harry is 'prophesised' to die for the cause. Visit my homepage for more info.
1. 01 Greetings

**Desiring Other Times **

Chapter 1 - Greetings

Disclaimer: If I had a penny for every time I said 'I own Harry Potter', I would have… one penny. Because I just said it.

A/N: Apologies for the coarse language.

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_There are times I wish I had never been born. Then there are times I wish he had never been born. But in the end, no matter how much I wish, no matter how much my heart cries out for either to occur, the gods will never grant me my desire. _

_My name is Harry James Potter, and I hate my brother. _

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"Jeremy, honey? It's time to wake uuup!" My mother's singsong voice rings cheerily in the half-silence of the morning. The walls have muffled the sound, but I have grown up hearing these words. She has never spoken them to me, for I get no such wake-up call – they are reserved for my brother alone, the Boy Who Lived, Prince-Sunshine-Comes-Out-Of-His-Arse.

The steady light of my desk lamp illuminates one corner of my room, the tottering towers of books casting solemn shadows that reach out towards the door like fingers. Oftentimes, my mother tries to convince me that studying by natural light was hardly going to damage my eyesight, but I still keep the blinds closed, preferring the reliable illumination brought by Muggle electricity.

Sighing, I close _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 3)_, tuck it among the veritable library of ordinary fiction books and exit my room, shutting the door behind me softly. My mother comes back down the hallway, from Jeremy's room.

"You're up, Harry! Wonderful, now you can help me make breakfast…" She steers me in the direction of the kitchen, and we spend about twenty minutes preparing the morning meal. Mother doesn't like having the house elves cooking for us for every meal – perhaps it's a side-effect of her field Auror training, in that out on the field, you didn't have servants helping you clean your clothes, cook your meals. We wouldn't even have house elves for cleaning if it wasn't for the fact that they've been in the Potter family for decades. Not to mention that father was averse to having to clean the muck that he helped bring in.

Around the time we were almost finished (Eggs Benedict on English Muffins), father and Jeremy wandered in. If we were any other family, one would have said their hair was 'sleep-tousled', but we _weren't_ any other family, and their hair was no messier than normal. I was thankful that my hair was hardly so scruffy, and merely had a few curls in it – something I'm thankful for having inherited from my mother.

"Morning, Lily." "Morning, mum!" A quick peck on her cheek (father) and a jaunty wave (Jeremy), then we were all seated, and tucking into breakfast.

"The two of you _are_ packed, right?" Mother looks pointedly at Jeremy, who has a penchant for forgetting things – I've always wondered if this was a side effect of having everyone cater to all his needs.

"Yes, mum." He chirped back. "You've asked us like, fifteen times already last night!"

"Just checking, honey." Jeremy grimaced at the word 'honey' – I personally agreed that eleven was far too old to be spoken to like that. "Muuum… I _told_ you…" He trailed off – not even he wanted to risk pissing mother off, particularly on the very day we were supposed to set off for Hogwarts.

Mother sighed, and father just grinned about his muffin. He washed the taste of cheese and ham down with a glass of orange juice, then brought the empty glass to the table with a _wham_ – mother glared at him, although he didn't crack the glass. _This_ time. Ignoring her, he swept the back of his hand across his mouth then sighed in a self-satisfied manner.

"Well!" said Father. "We ready to go?" Hurrying quickly, Jeremy and I gobbled our breakfasts down quickly, then hurried off to our rooms to get our things. Two minutes later (and an Ablutions Charm – it wouldn't do to have bad breath if I could help it, right?), the clunking thunk-thunk of heavy trunks being dragged down the stairs could be heard, as Jeremy and I hauled our trunks to the car. Somehow or other, mother had taught father how to 'deal' with Muggle cars, and he'd managed to pass his driver's license exam.

Jeremy spent the ten minutes it took to drive to King's Cross Station talking about how many friends he'd make at Hogwarts and how he reckoned that it could hardly be all that difficult if all that father and mother had started to teach us had been so easy. The moment he said that, I knew he hadn't read _any_ of his set text books – if he had, he would have realised that the Light Spell and the Stunning Spell were listed as some of the easiest magic to pull off. Not to mention that the level of the magic we would be taught about would be substantially more difficult.

Sighing, I turned from looking straight ahead to looking out the window. Mother noticed.

"Well, what do you think Hogwarts is going to be like, Harry?"

I blinked, then fed them some bullshit answer that I wasn't sure, that I hoped I wouldn't get lost or something like that. Father grinned – you could see it in the rear-view mirror – and started some story about how he and the Marauders had managed to Confound Severus Snape into forgetting about a trick step. And into not noticing the quite intricate rig-up they'd put into place.

It wasn't long until we were on King's Cross Station, traversing the crowds to platform 9 and ¾. The fire-red and gold steam train puffed out mist, despite the fact that it wasn't going anywhere. Students, parents and a few discreetly placed Aurors milled about, the squawking of owls, croaking of toads and mewling of cats (along with other sundry sounds from not so authorized pets) adding to the chaotic atmosphere.

Father helped Jeremy pull his trunk into an empty carriage, with mother helping with mine. Out here, in public, they seemed to do their utmost best to make it seem like we were the perfect family, where Jeremy and I were loved equally. That's not to say they behave horribly to me at home, but nonetheless, the differences in how they treat us when in private are there.

Mother sighed happily at the both of us, eyes slightly glazed over as she daydreamed about how we were going to be the perfect students – quite conveniently forgetting the influence of the man she had married.

"Oh, the two of you are going to do _just fine_." She murmured, running her hand through Jeremy's, then my hair. "Look after yourselves, Jeremy, Harry." We grinned back at her, and Jeremy said something about how macho and capable he was and that _he_ wouldn't be getting hurt. Okay, so maybe I'm paraphrasing a bit.

Make that a lot. But that's neither here nor there.

Eventually, the train pulled out of the station, and I smiled inwardly that I wouldn't have to deal with my parents for almost an entire year. Jeremy may have complained that our parents' work pulled them out of the house for long periods of time, but I certainly wasn't disappointed that they expected us to stay at Hogwarts during the holidays.

"Well!" Jeremy turned to me. He pulled out a set of Exploding Snap cards from seemingly nowhere. "Want to play a game?"

I tilted my head, debating whether or not to play a few rounds or finish that book on Animagi… then decided that keeping up appearances was far more important.

"Sure." We sat down on either side of the compartment's table, and Jeremy began shuffling the cards. He'd split them into three (you couldn't really play with two players, but if you took out enough cards for another player, people couldn't cheat), when the door slid open.

"…nd I know you think I'm a useless idiot but would you _please_ shut up!" The red-headed lanky boy at the door argued with some unseen person to his left, then he turned to face us, his ears burning red. "Um… sorry about that." Jeremy and I merely shrugged at him, giving slight smiles. "Uh, could I sit here? Everywhere else is full…"

If it were at all possible, the boy seemed to blush even more. Jeremy shuffled further down the bench on his side of the table. "Sure! Want to join us in game?"

The boy blinked, then nodded enthusiastically. "That'd be awesome, thanks. I'm Ron Weasley, by the way." He stuck out his hand, and Jeremy shook it, then me.

"I'm Jeremy Potter. And this…" He indicated at me. "I'm Harry Potter."

Ron's eyes widened. "The Potter Twins? Jeremy Potter, the Boy Who Lived?" He looked back and forth between the two of us, but spent more time looking at Jeremy. Jeremy coughed uncomfortably, but his mouth curled up in a half-smothered smile.

"Um… yeah. That's me. Us, I mean." He looked sideways at me apologetically. I merely grimaced a little, rolled my eyes as Ron continued to be speechless with awe.

The door slid open again – I was regretting having agreed to playing Exploding Snap, seeing as we hadn't even _started_ to play – and a girl with bushy hair and rather unfortunately oversized front teeth swept her eyes over all of us.

"You haven't seen a toad have you? Neville here's–" She turned to somebody at her side, whose silhouette we could see through the frosted glass. "-lost his." She looked expectantly at us.

We looked at each other and shook our heads. "Sorry, haven't seen a toad."

Jeremy seemed to remember something. "Have you tried Summoning him?" The girl blinked.

"Um, no. That's a Fourth Year spell – hang on, you three aren't fourth years, you're too young… right?"

Ron shook his head violently, but Jeremy merely smirked. I sighed, and began looking through my deal of cards. "Nah, we're just starting. Maybe I could try…?" Jeremy pulled out his wand with a flourish, and the girl looked rather curiously at him.

"Hang on, you're Jeremy Potter, aren't you?"

An exhausting minute later (it felt more like ten), and Jeremy had Summoned Trevor the Toad for Neville, and Hermione and Ron had finally gotten over most of their star-struck awe. All three of them joined our expanding game of Exploding Snap, and it was a rather rowdy crowd that greeted the lady with the Food Trolley when she slid open the door.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?" There were varying reactions in our group. Jeremy's eyes lit up with excitement while Hermione's lit up with curiosity as to the nature of Wizarding snacks. Neville and Ron seemed disappointed about something – in Neville's case, my theory was that he had been forced into a diet of some sort, while Ron couldn't quite afford it. Me? I just stood up, pulled out a Sickle and paid for a few packets of Chocolate Frogs and Cauldron Cakes. Jeremy bought a pile of Chocolate Frogs (I believe he was about two cards off having a compete set) and some Every Flavour Beans, along with some other random sweets.

He piled them onto the table, next to the cards. "Have some," he said, gesturing to the snacks and looking at Ron, Neville and Hermione in turn. Hermione seemed reluctant about having chocolate – she said it was to do with her having dentists for parents, and Ron needed some convincing that he didn't have to pay for any of it. Even Jeremy thought it wasn't a good idea to convince someone to break their diet (even if the someone was male) and merely insisted Neville have at the very least, a Cauldron Cake.

Half an hour later, the train was pulling into Hogsmeade station, and Hermione, Neville and Ron had left to get changed, their trunks being in different compartments. Dressed all in black, Jeremy seemed smaller than he normally was, and the nerves of the impending Sorting made him paler and younger looking.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" Hagrid, the Keeper of Keys and Grounds of Hogwarts, bellowed out across the chatter of returning students. Jeremy and I headed towards his gigantic form, with other diminutive-looking students squeezing in the same direction through the older students. It wasn't the first time that I revelled in the fact that a slightly skewed potion (I believe it was supposed to make my bones grow stronger, but my dose seemed to have been made by the student, rather than the master – Jeremy received that one) combined with the slightly unsteady genes of a union between a Pure Blood (of several generations) and a Muggle resulted in my accelerated metabolism. It wasn't anything amazing – sure, I grew a little faster, didn't get fat, was just that little bit fitter than someone who'd done the same activities as I did… but having all this compounded for several years meant I was taller than my fraternal twin brother by about two inches and was substantially more muscular and fit.

All in all, I didn't have too much trouble forcing my way through the crowds to Hagrid.

"C'mon, follow me!" We trailed after him through a forest, and to the edges of a giant lake. "No more 'an four t' a boat!" instructed Hagrid, as he climbed into one by himself, the small wooden boat sinking down several inches.

Jeremy grinned at Neville, Ron and Hermione, and pulled them with him to a boat. As they were hauled along, both Neville and Hermione strained their necks to glance back at me a few times, but I had already disappeared, joining a boat with a sandy-haired boy called Seamus Finnegan, a black boy called Dean Thomas and a boy called Terry Boot.

The boats travelled across the lake and eventually approached the other side, the entire debacle of walking through a forest and crossing the lake obviously designed to awe impressionable students. I sighed, trailed my fingers through the water and noted with my sharp eyes (kept at 20-20 thanks to my reading with full illumination) that there seemed to be some sort of giant sea creature in the water. Docking, we all offloaded from the small boats and trod up to the castle, where Hagrid pounded against the front 'doors' (I had to admit, such a word put into mind small, flimsy affairs, while these were more like gates).

Almost immediately, the door swung open and a tall (not compared to Hagrid, of course) black-haired witch dressed in emerald green stood, silhouetted by the light from the hall behind her. Her stern manner jogged my memory of the many portraits of staff detailed in _Hogwarts, A History_, and I realised that this was Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. What was slightly amusing to note was that she was also Head of Gryffindor, which was well known for its rivalry with Slytherin – whose house colours were green and silver.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall." declared Hagrid, one of his dustbin-lid sized hands sweeping carelessly behind him. If it weren't for his height, he might have accidentally decapitated one of the poor students, and Professor McGonagall seemed to notice this, seeing as how she blanched momentarily at him.

"_Thankyou_, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

"Psst! How many times do you think they've rehearsed _that_?" A boy with slick blonde hair hissed at his companions, two rather thuggish looking boys that paused for a noticeable moment before grunting in response, only turning it into a sort of muffled sniggering laughter when the blonde-haired boy looked expectantly at them. Turning with a sort of huff, the blonde roved his eyes over at the other students as we entered a small side-room off the Entrance Hall.

His eyes landed on me, then on the small lightning bolt shaped scar on my forehead. The blonde's eyes widened, then narrowed calculatingly as he swaggered in a practiced manner in my direction.

"Harry Potter, I presume?" His perfectly manicured hand extended, the boy looked at me right in the eye, a fact that I congratulated him for, considering I was taller than him by _five_ inches. "I'm Draco Malfoy. A pleasure to make your acquaintance." Briefly, his eyes flickered left and right, and I realised he was hoping that Jeremy was also about. Not seeing Jeremy, he decided to settle for just me.

Regarding his hand and recalling all I had heard (not much that was truly factual) about the Malfoy family, I reached forward and shook his hand firmly. Making friends with Draco Malfoy wasn't on the top of my To-Do List, but making enemies with him was certainly on my _Not_ To-Do List.

"Likewise," I replied dryly. Looking pointedly at his two goons that had followed after him, I let go of Draco's hand. "Oh, them? That's Vincent Crabbe-" Draco pointed at the one on his left. "-and that's Gregory Goyle," he said, pointing to the other. I nodded at them neutrally, when I noticed Draco's eyes brighten as he looked at something – or somebody – over my shoulder.

"Harry! We lost you on the way here…" He turned to regard Draco, Vincent and Gregory. "And who're your friends? I'm Jeremy, by the way, Jeremy Potter." He stuck out his hand, and Draco seemed to look like Christmas was here.

"Draco Malfoy." Just as he reached to shake Jeremy's hand, Jeremy drew it back suddenly, as if it had been burned. I sighed inwardly – the fool hadn't recognized a Malfoy despite how much he'd been told by father and mother!

"_Malfoy!_" Already, Draco was looking scandalised at Jeremy's rudeness, while Vincent and Gregory were inching forward, gaining momentum with Draco's rising temper.

"That's my name, yes, and if you think _my_ name's funny-" With a little bumbling flair, Draco attempted to steady the conversation.

Jeremy, however, would have none of it. "Come on, Harry. You know what dad said – Malfoys are _evil_." He hissed at me, and I refrained from rolling my eyes. Draco was incensed, and Vincent and Gregory were approaching us quickly. Jeremy tried to tug me away, to join where Ron and Neville seemed to be chatting.

If I followed Jeremy, Draco would take me as his enemy. But if I insisted on staying, Jeremy would think the same. Damned if you do, damned if you don't, but not if I had anything to say about it!

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Author's Notes:- There are several things that may not be exactly clear (which says something about my writing talent or lack thereof):

1. Harry may be a bit (understatement) of a bookworm, but there is a reason (nuh-duh). He is also a lot more intelligent that the canon books paint him – would you like to have a saviour that has an IQ less than 100? Because that's canon Harry!

2. Jeremy doesn't hate Harry – to him, Harry's just his 'little' brother that's a little shy (read: antisocial), into books, and occasionally some fun

3. Harry doesn't get abused by his parents – that is illogical even though it occurs in most stories of this AU type, unless you play the 'child abuse runs in the Evans family' card (which is still far-fetched but possible). He just gets 'forgotten' and 'unappreciated' a lot of the time.

4. If I get some terms wrong – that is, I'm not using British speech, that's because I'm Australian and my perception on the British language is skewed by the fact that several oceans separate the two countries and very little cultural exchange occurs other than sterilised television and a few migrants.

5. OOCness will occur as I make my return to the HP world (even if it's AU)

6. One major thing about this story that makes it even more AU is that current events are set in the twenty-first century, with Harry and Jeremy being born in the late twentieth century. Rather than being born in 1986 and starting at Hogwarts in September 1997, they are born in 1995 and started at Hogwarts in September 2006.


	2. 02 Subterfuge

**Desiring Other Times**

Chapter 2 – Subterfuge

Disclaimer: Death shall rain upon all who say I own HP because I don't.

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_They say blood is thicker than water – that family is more important than any of the other bonds we make with other people. Perhaps they have never known of people that have never felt that tugging emotion at their heart, of overwhelming love for their family. It wouldn't surprise me if one day, I could love my friends in a manner that bordered on treating them as if they were my true family. _

_If I ever meet the person that coined the phrase 'You can't choose your family', I will personally skewer them like a shish kebab. _

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I bent my head to Jeremy's ear, and hissed, "_You_ might not be able to act in front of a Malfoy, but I for one am _not_ running away." Slowly, deliberately, I pried his fingers from the sleeve of my robes. Jeremy blinked, once, twice, then seemed to take in the merit of my words. He nodded briefly, then hurried off to join his 'friends' – strange how easily young children make these so called friends.

Vincent and Gregory paused at Jeremy's sudden disappearance, and at Draco's outstretched arm that prevented Vincent from moving past him. Draco scowled at Jeremy's retreating back, then turned to regard me with a far more critical eye – I had not expected for someone else my age to already be so interested in politics, but I wasn't complaining.

"Don't get along with your 'big brother', do you, Harry?" prompted Draco, fishing for information, while only using the most rudimentary of barbs by referring to my 'inferiority' of being born a few minutes later. Nearby, some of the students – probably Muggleborns – gasped/screamed at the sudden appearance of the school ghosts.

I shrugged noncommittally. "Something like that. We don't agree on a lot of things, but that's what siblings are like, I suppose."

Draco nodded understandingly, even though we both knew he was an only child. Quickly glancing at Jeremy, Draco leaned in. "You probably already know that _some_ Wizarding families are much more… _superior_ to others." He looked pointedly at Ron, and his obviously second-hand robes. You don't want to make friends with the wrong sort, Harry – I can help you there." He offered good-naturedly, while I wondered at how quickly we were already on first name terms. Perhaps my brother's presence had caused Draco to be slightly more willing to act friendly in order to ensure the continued healthy relationship between one of the Potter twins and the Malfoy family.

"Perhaps. I'll think about it." I nodded absentmindedly, and was saved from any further conversation by Professor McGonagall's return.

"Come along now, it's time to be Sorted." I supposed even Vincent and Gregory could hear the capital 'S' in the word, considering how much emphasis she had placed on it.

We trailed after the tall witch as she led us through another set of great doors, into the Great Hall. Overhead, the charmed roof (or perhaps it was merely a glass roof?) was a silken black-purple panel, dotted with glowing white and blue stars. Hermione – a few students behind me – whispered something about reading about it in _Hogwarts, A History_. Beside me, Draco wrinkled his nose, whispering something under his breath that sounded like 'mudblood'.

The Sorting Hat was brought in, and it was Compelled by Headmaster Dumbledore to sing the song that they'd written together. Contrary to popular belief, the hat wasn't entirely responsible for all its actions – while it did possess the capability to Sort students, Headmaster Dumbledore possessed the ability to Compel it to do certain things and also to tag along for a ride into the minds of students as they were Sorted. Father, being descended from Godric Gryffindor (the Hat's original owner), possessed several tomes about the Founding years, and many on the time in between then and now.

Thanks to this, I had already started to learn the 'art' of Occlumency since I was ten, and in the few months that had passed, I was certain I could convince the Hat (and the Headmaster) that the first 'sphere' they entered into was all that existed in my mind. Putting up mental shields – more powerful defensive-wise as they may be – would only alert them to the fact that I had something to hide and my meagre skills could hardly fend off mental penetration on two fronts. Legilimency was something that I practiced from time to time, but I had decided that Occlumency would be a far more useful skill to possess, considering the Sorting and also the fact that it helped me focus my mind.

The Hat was placed on students' heads in alphabetical order, until it finally got to the P's.

"Potter, Harry." intoned Professor McGonagall. She looked at me over her glasses, in a manner I decided was verging on motherly. Almost immediately as she said my name, the students began hissing 'Potter? You mean Jeremy Potter's brother?', and similar.

I picked the Hat up, sat on the stool and pulled the Hat on. Considering it had been an adult's hat (even if, as the generations wore on, humans grew progressively larger), the brim slid down to just below my eyes.

A little tickling sensation seemed to pervade my head, akin to the feeling of swimming underneath the surface of a still pool. The Headmaster's presence was identified as a sort of abnormality to the otherwise 'smooth' probe of the Hat, like the head on a nail. "Ahh, a brilliant mind. Certainly, there is no other place than RAVENCLAW!" The final word was shouted out to the hall, and I grinned at the quick Sorting. I was sure that I had managed to trick both the Hat and the Headmaster, else the Sorting would have surely taken much longer. And might have resulted in my placement in Slytherin, what with my thirst to at the very least be better than Jeremy at something I _could_ help.

Applause sounded and I approached the Ravenclaw table. Across the Hall, I could see Draco giving me a sort of wry smile – if I had been Sorted into Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, I was sure he would be instead regarding me with a look of pure loathing. Ravenclaw, as many pureblood enthusiasts were known to say, would 'do', if not Slytherin.

"You're Jeremy Potter's brother, aren't you?" The questions came thick and fast, and I merely nodded at the first question when all quieted when my brother's name was called.

For almost a minute and a half (mine had taken only ten seconds), Jeremy sat on the stool, the Sorting Hat enveloping the top half of his face. Finally, it let loose with 'Gryffindor!'. The applause was thunderous, with much hooting and foot-stamping. The Weasley Twins chanted 'We got Potter! We got Potter!' and many Gryffindors hurried to shake Jeremy's hand, to introduce themselves to their saviour. Many tried to 'subtly' peek at his scar, a perfectly circular ring with a kind of S-shaped gash in the middle.

While many thought the S was a signifier for Slytherin – the house 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' had been Sorted into – or something similar, the circle never ceased to puzzle. My private theory – that I had never shared with anyone – was that it was the product of some mere coincidence of chances, that the falling, burning rubble of our home and the hurtling furniture in our house had resulted in his scars. Much study on my part revealed that the mark of Zeus – a Grecian god – was a far more likely shape for a scar caused by magic to take, rather than one of the twenty-six letters of the alphabet that just happened to be the initial of a legendary wizard's name. Powerful as Salazar Slytherin may have been, he was still human.

The Sorting progressed until finally the last student (Blaise Zabini) had been Sorted into Slytherin and he had scuttled off to sit by Daphne Greengrass' side.

The Headmaster stood up from his seat, a rather ornately decorated affair. "Welcome," he declared, "Welcome to another year of schooling at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

One of the newly Sorted Ravenclaws near me snorted. "As if we didn't know where we were…" he muttered, and others sniggered.

"Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words." He paused dramatically. "And here they are! Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

I raised an eyebrow at the rather pedestrian – or ancient, depending on how you looked at them – insults. Was he _encouraging_ bullying? Or was he merely having a private joke at the lack of knowledge the people about him had of the English language? Shaking my head, I piled my plate with politely sized servings. What are politely sized servings? Servings that don't make your plate look like a mountain and the owner a pig, of course!

At the Gryffindor table, I could see Ronald Weasley biting alternatively at one drumstick, then another, one held in either hand. Hermione Granger, who was sitting next to Jeremy and two seats down from Ron, could be seen scowling at Ronald's poor table manners. As I tucked into a portion of pot roast, I let my eyes wander over the staff, connecting them with their entries in _The Hogwarts Of Today, 256th Edition. _

My eyes lingered unwillingly on Severus Snape, thanks to the many stories my father had spun of his school days. A little sense of pity entered my mind, but I squashed it as I forced my eyes to regard the turban-wearing man next to him. His name was Quentin Quirrell, and apparently he had travelled about the Continent before taking up the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor when the previous one had transferred to another school that had offered – or so I had heard – higher pay.

The back of Professor Quirrell's head was to me, and a spark of raging magic seemed to approach me at seemingly light speed, centring on my scar. Quickly, I dulled the nerves about my forehead and braced myself as the magic hit, causing my scar to tingle only mildly. I knew that if I hadn't dulled the nerves, it would have stung considerably, perhaps even been the onset of a splitting headache.

In my few months of learning Occlumency, I had found the strange connection in my scar, which fairly reeked of Dark Magic as I examined it from 'within me'. It was the existence of this connection that had led me to begin to doubt Jeremy's status as the Boy-Who-Lived. Of course, I had structured my memories so that any magic that came through that connection was deflected and slowed down, weakening the force of any attack through that avenue. I hadn't risked putting up Occlumency shields around it else Headmaster Dumbledore would have noticed.

As it was, I rubbed surreptitiously at my scar with one sleeve, feigning tiredness. The chattering students about me didn't notice a thing, and all of the Legilimency capable students and staff present were more occupied with prying into more important minds, like Jeremy's. There weren't many students that had exhibited their capability at the mind arts (I had 'pinged' at random intervals, with the few Legilimency skills I had acquired), and even most of _them_ were aware that if there were several people prying into the mind of one solitary person, the chances of 'bumping' into other people rose exponentially. So they resigned themselves to rifling through Jeremy's mind later, leaving the honours to Severus Snape, Albus Dumbledore and Pomona Sprout.

Yes, the Head of Hufflepuff was a Legilimens – I was quite surprised at that fact, but resolved to never assume anything about anyone. It was precisely that sort of foolishness that had everyone assuming Jeremy was the Boy Who Lived and that Tom Riddle wouldn't have turned out as bad as he did.

Finally, the banquet ended, we ploughed our way through the school song, Headmaster Dumbledore warned about the Forbidden Forest being, true to its name, _forbidden_, and that the third-floor corridor on the right side of the main building was out of bounds, on pain of death. Okay, so maybe the Headmaster hadn't phrased it so that it seemed like he was threatening to kill anyone who disobeyed him, but it was close enough. Already gossiping and speculating about the new rule, the Prefects led their House to the dorms, with Penelope Clearwater leading the way for us. Apparently, the male fifth year Ravenclaw prefect was off somewhere with the Quidditch captain arguing about how he couldn't stay on the team as Seeker, what with his OWLs coming up.

This news was hardly exciting to me – first years weren't allowed to own brooms, let alone join their House Quidditch teams – but the students about me seemed to perk up out of the complacency brought on by being well fed. A Chinese girl – I assumed she was a second year student, as she hadn't been Sorted with us yet still looked young enough to be barely older than I – chattered happily with her friends about how she'd be trying out for the position of Seeker.

Reaching a giant shaped mirror (there was no frame but the edges of the mirror were shaped to look like an ornate frame would have), Penelope informed us that since the ties we wore were charmed to take on the house colours of the house the student wearing it was in, the mirror would allow only those wearing school ties of Ravenclaw colours through.

"It's not like Alice and the Looking Glass, is it?" One of the female students asked worriedly – I believe her name was Padma Patil. Laughter from the Muggleborn students.

Penelope was puzzled for a few seconds before someone hissed something about portals to another world into her ear. She grinned, then shook her head. "No, no, nothing like that. Our common room is through here, watch." She placed her palm out, placed it against the mirrors – which rippled about her palm, and walked forward without pausing. Taking her lead, others mimicked her, while I watched some of the other older students who merely treated it as if it were the barrier at King's Cross Station. That is, they strode straight through it, without having to place their palm against the 'surface'.

Taking a breath in, I walked towards the mirror, and braced myself for impact as I walked into it, through it, then past it. Breathing out, I took in the Ravenclaw colours of the common room, the cushiony chairs, the roaring fireplaces (it was hardly intelligent to have only _one_ fireplace for a whole House of students).

"Boys' dorms are up the right staircase, girls' dorms are on the left. First years are on the first floor, second years on the second, and so on and so forth. Now," Penelope looked at us searchingly. "Any other questions?"

Someone – the boy that had commented sarcastically about Headmaster Dumbledore's 'speech' – raised his hand. "You said the mirror recognises our house tie. What if we're in plain clothes?"

Penelope smiled – she had been expecting that question. "_That's_ why everyone gets issued with _these_." She waved at one of her friends to bring over the boxes, and they Levitated the boxes over. Fishing into one of the boxes, Penelope pulled out a silver and blue elastic wristband. "These are charmed so they recognise who you are when you've put them on once, and only you can take them off, and only _you_ can wear them. You can wear them with when in uniform as well – the house tie is just for when we get new students that haven't got their wristband." We all scrambled to get a wristband, while I cast first a Glamour Charm (wandlessly, of course) to hide the rather colourful magic I was going to do next, then a few Identifying Spells on the wristband I had been issued with. A tracking spell as well as a recording charm were brought to my attention, and I managed to force them under my control, so that I could – if I so desired – feed them false information. Slipping the band on, it constricted momentarily, then loosened so that it sat comfortably like the other wristbands I was wearing.

The ones I was already wearing were charmed so that I was warded from elementary spells like _Stupefy_ and _Impedimenta_, a Occlumency ward, a healing accelerator, an emergency Portkey and one that increased the amount of gravity my body perceived. Not all of them were active – remembering this, I reactivated the Occlumency ward, which I had taken down temporarily for the Sorting. The gravity one (which was activated at all times these days) wasn't like other more standard physical training magics in that it didn't actually increase the force acting on my person (it would be dangerous even if I was standing on very firm, very strong stone), but increased my _perceived_ acceleration due to gravity. According to many scientists, what the mind perceived, the body believed – and my modification of a torture spell had helped along my already enhanced physical ability.

As we were changing into our pyjamas, some of my dorm mates noticed these extra wristbands and commented and I merely shrugged, saying they were fashionable in the Muggle world. A Muggleborn student (Thomas Gravey) in the dorm agreed, showing off his own wristbands.

Soon, everyone was safely tucked up in their beds, fast asleep. I tugged out the Second Edition of the Marauders' Map, something my father and his friends Remus Lupin and Sirius Black had made after their first map had been left in Hogwarts for the next generation of Marauders, and also because of the betrayal by Peter Pettigrew. They'd made it for Jeremy, but Sirius and Remus, seeing how interested I had been, had convinced father to make another copy for me. Mother hadn't been told of the existence of either map, a situation we all intended to keep unrectified.

There, on the map, I could see that Jeremy's map was on his person, and the first Marauders' Map was in the possession of Fred and George Weasley. This was one of the 'improvements' of the Second Edition – it could tell the position of all other copies of the map. Right now, the ability to hide my copy of the map from detection and putting up a false signal to broadcast that the map was 'in my trunk' was beyond me, but I intended to learn how to do exactly that before the year was out.

Sighing, I deactivated the map and locked it back in my trunk. It had taken a large chunk from my savings to purchase the sorcerers' trunk, particularly since I had had it customized with extra security features. My parents hadn't been keen on the idea of my possessing something that I could hide things in, but when I insisted that yes, I needed to bring a substantial portion of my library with me to Hogwarts, they agreed on the condition that I had to pay for it myself. After exerting this rudimentary effort of parental protection, they had somehow forgotten that sorcerers' trunks were sold in another part of London's Wizarding 'CBD', away from Diagon Alley – fortunately not Knockturn Alley, else I would have never gotten permission to buy one. They'd taken us shopping, not for our schools things (that had been a week earlier) but just for fun, and I'd split off from the main group on the pretext of continuing to browse through Flourish and Blott's catalogue. Once they'd gone, I had disguised myself and hurried off to Pecunia Alley. Along with purchasing my customized sorcerers' trunk, I had made other purchases including several tomes that weren't available in the conventional catalogues in Diagon Alley, yet still legal. Still disguised, I had disappeared into the shadows of Knockturn Alley, and re-emerged laden with books pertaining to Occlumency and Legilimency, darker forms of magic, as well as a few items of particular interest such as a Foe Glass, Mini-Tornado pellets and a second wand.

I had decided on getting a second wand when the one Ollivanders had provided had contained a core that was from the same source as Voldemort's – the phenomena that occurred in relation to brother/sister wands was not news to me, and if I ever encountered Voldemort, I would need some other wand to fight him with.

Normally, making a wand (even one that wasn't customised) took several hours, days even. But this wand maker in Knockturn Alley had a reputation of using Time Turners to help her get the time she needed to make a customised wand for a customer in what would seem to the buyer, mere minutes. I'd walked into the store, selected the parts for the core and the casing, then she'd taken them, went into the room next door, and emerged a minute later looking slightly haggard. Fifty galleons later, I was out of the store, the second wand stored in a bracer-like holster strapped about my left forearm, my official wand in a holster on my right arm.

My parents hadn't even noticed I was missing when I turned up at Florean Fortescue's, disguise removed. Several shopping bags (charmed to be lightweight and their contents shrunken) sat at the foot of their stools, while I calmly sat down on the stool next to Jeremy, eating my vanilla ice-cream sundae in silence. In the middle of some story, Jeremy had brought his hand back a little too far in one of his enthusiastic gestures and bumped against me – he'd turned about to apologise when he realised it was me.

"Harry! You remember how that time we were playing against the Pockets down the road and I caught the Snitch just as what's-his-name was about to score?" Intended apology forgotten, he continued on with his story. I nodded absentmindedly, but my parents paid me no mind, choosing instead to congratulate Jeremy on some terrible Quidditch game we'd played several years back. That they'd been present at.

Sometimes, life really was unfair.

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Author's Notes:- Some more things to clarify:

1. Jeremy's scar: the 'S' in the middle is the same size as Harry's lightning bolt, and is… pink-white. The ring about it is a perfect circle, slightly pinker than the 'S'. Harry's scar is unchanged from the canon scar.

2. I've pulled the 'James Potter is from the line of Gryffindor' card because I needed a link for Harry to know about the Sorting Hat and other stuff like that.

3. Pecunia Alley – 'Pecunia', Latin for 'money, wealth in cattle'. Might be a link for Petunia in canon? Pecuniarily – adverb of Pecuniary, 'relating to money'.

4. Sorcerers' trunk – think faux-Moody's trunk

5. The wristbands – elastic bands (half an inch thick, coloured, teenage fashion item in AUS), have one or more (smaller) wards that protect/enhance/train Harry. Ravenclaw admission band has tracking and recording spells (records magic performed, places travelled to, may record conversations).

6. The torture spell for the wristband – think the Muggle torture/execution technique of squashing people beneath blocks of rock. Similar, but Magic made it even more horrible. Modified so less painful/fatal.

7. The Ravenclaw Mirror – I figured if Gryffindor has a portrait, Slytherin has a wall, Dumbledore has a gargoyle/statue, then make Ravenclaw different. I'm having some trouble with the Hufflepuff one (if I ever need it).

8. Marauders' Map – new edition also tracks magical signature of maps, not just people. Muggles might not show up on either edition (still thinking about this one).

9. Occlumency/Legilimency – he's still not very good at Occlumency, but he's getting there, relying on misinformation to protect. Keep in mind he's a little older than 11, and has been learning for close to a year.

10. Mini-Tornado pellets – like smoke pellets, throw and the magic performs. Tornadoes appear in this case.

11. Second wand – needed for later, ingredients won't be revealed for a very long time.

12. Jeremy the Seeker? – yes, he's a Seeker. No, he does not take after his father who was a Seeker/Chaser.

13. Yes, Harry has money. He gets pocket money – his parents don't want one child running around in silk underwear while the other is in discarded house-elf rags. And because it really would be unfair if they didn't, Harry's parents actually bought all of Harry's school things – he just wanted a sorcerers' trunk rather than a normal one.


	3. 03 Uncertainty

**Desiring Other Times**

Chapter 3 - Uncertainty

Disclaimer: Imagine a world where the person who owned Harry Potter was rich. I would be poor.

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_In this world, there is no thick, distinctly marked line between good and evil. Some would go so far as to say that good and evil are ideas created by The Man to keep us under control. I believe that true evil is the inability to see, understand and make logical judgements about 'the other side of the argument'. Voldemort might be able to see and understand what the 'Light' side have to say about his policies, but most of the time, he doesn't act in a logical manner. _

_That will be the reason for his downfall, whether by the hand of Albus Dumbledore, of Jeremy Potter 'The Boy Who Lived', or by my hand. I may hold little love for either of them, but I acknowledge that in this war, either of them – indeed, almost any wizard or witch – could quite possibly be the one who destroys Voldemort._

_We are all on the same 'side' against Voldemort. What remains to be seen is if the factions within this 'side' can stop fighting for long enough to win._

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Classes progressed smoothly, and I was careful to ensure that I wasn't performing far better than my peers – what worse way was there to reveal that I wasn't just another student? Not to mention people would say I was an attention-seeking brat that was jealous of my brother's fame. It wasn't as if I wanted it; having watched Jeremy deal with the paparazzi and the fans all these years had inured me of the fantasy that being rich and famous made you insanely happy – it was more likely to make you feel hassled and annoyed.

Double Potions in the dungeons rolled round on the third day of classes – apparently first year Gryffindor (and consequently Jeremy) had had Potions yesterday with Slytherin, and Professor Snape had laid into him, being completely unfair. Perhaps it was because Jeremy looked almost exactly like father – I hoped it was that rather than the fact that he was just a Potter, else _I_ would also be in for the same treatment.

Professor Snape ordered all of us in when he arrived outside the classroom, then proceeded to mark the roll. When he got to my name, he paused, looked at my straight in the eye and probed about with Legilimency. Specifically for this class, I had removed the sugary fake memories I had floating about the first circle and replaced them with some of the memories of being ignored. Encountering these memories, Snape seemed to recoil a little, then recovered and proceeded with marking the roll without comment.

Stepping from behind the professor's bench, he regarded all of us for a half-minute. The expression he wore seemed to say he had judged us and found us wanting. He seemed to sigh, then launched into a rather well-rehearsed and oft-repeated speech about how we were all stupid and wouldn't understand the wonders of Potions. Many of the Ravenclaws looked scandalised while the Hufflepuffs took it stoically.

"Potter!" Snape whirled around suddenly and regarded me. I was sure this was what the Gryffindors had been talking about. "What would I get if I brewed a potion containing boomslang skin, lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed, horn of bicorn, porcupine needles and knotgrass?" The rather odd order of ingredients (and the fact that a great many were missing from the typical list) threw me for a second.

"Uh…" I thought frantically for a way to answer without giving him a chance to think I was either a know-it-all brat or a dunderhead… but of course, being a Potter, he wouldn't give me that sort of chance. I straightened, and decided to stick with know-it-all – I _was_ a Ravenclaw, after all. "You'd have the beginnings of Polyjuice Potion, sir."

Momentarily, Snape looked stunned but he hid it quickly. "Unicorn blood, ground Opaleye dragon scales, horned slugs and salt?" Was his next question.

"A… healing potion?" I twisted the last word so that it was phrased into a question. "I think… for cramped muscles?"

Snape's eyes narrowed, he probed my mind again and I experienced a moment of extreme panic when he almost crossed the threshold from the first circle into the next. Perhaps he got hit by the sudden wave of fear that I felt, but he quickly retreated from my mind.

"Well? Why aren't you writing?" He demanded of the class, and I let loose a breath of relief. The others seemed a little surprised that Snape hadn't done anything worse than quiz me on some OWL material (not that they knew that), but decided that trying to remember what I had said was more important.

An hour later of theory, and we were paired up to make a potion that could cure boils. Terry Boot was paired up with me, and he tried to pry out from me where I had learned so much about Potions but the presence of Snape sweeping past saved me from having to answer. It wasn't hard to ensure that Terry didn't make any mistakes whilst we were brewing – it wasn't as if he was an accident prone or forgetful person either – and when Snape came around to inspect the finished potions at the end of the lesson, he couldn't find any fault with it.

Snape looked at me piercingly as we packed up, then…

"Potter. Stay back, if you will." His voice brooked no argument, and the others looked at me worriedly then hurried off, not wanting to be caught up in whatever 'trouble' I had perpetrated.

I approached the front bench, and he stared at me for a little bit. "I hear from Draco that he was disappointed that you weren't Sorted into Slytherin." I blinked – this certainly wasn't what I was expecting. Perhaps he expected a reply from me, but when it was obvious I wasn't going to, Snape continued. "Now, you may have heard from your… father that Slytherins are a… 'nasty' lot, but I'm sure if you managed to impress even Draco, then you're certainly not the type who possesses such bigoted views." This time, it was obvious he _really_ expected an answer from me.

"No sir." I decided that commenting further about assumptions would only make it clear that _I_ had assumed too much in thinking I was 'allowed' to put forth an opinion.

Snape seemed satisfied with my two word answer. "Well, I hope you don't turn out like your _fine brother_ has-" Perhaps he was trying to get on my good side by pointing out that neither of us liked Jeremy all that much, or perhaps he truly hoped I didn't turn out like Jeremy. "-but I suppose…" He trailed off, glanced at me. "I suppose that since you seem capable of grasping the concepts of the fine art of Potions, it seems unlikely that you will. Well! Draco would like to speak with you sometime – I'm sure the two of you would make fine friends." He paused.

I looked at him, inwardly wondering if the man was insane. Friends? With Draco Malfoy? As if my parents would ever let me hear the end of it! "I… I'm not quite sure if that's a good idea, sir… It's not that I don't like Draco!" I hurriedly added. "It's just… I don't think putting more… 'stress' on my parents is a good idea."

Snape nodded, and I sort of wished I had a video camera, with which to record a moment where Snape had agreed with a Potter. My father would have liked that. "That is a valid point, Mr Potter. Be as it may, don't forget that you've impressed the son of one of the most distinguished wizards in society." I couldn't help but notice how Snape had paused slightly before 'distinguished' – it seemed even _he_ had a little sense of humour.

"You may leave, now." I hurried out of the laboratory and towards the Great Hall for lunch.

Terry and the others looked at me expectantly. "Well? What did he want? You didn't lose any points, did you?"

I shook my head, both to answer them and also to express my wonder that they could worry about something so mundane. "No, I didn't lose any points. He just wanted to talk about… about Potions." From there, they began to question me on just how I knew so much about the subject, and they looked at me in awe when I said I'd had a read through some of my parents' old textbooks.

"Wow! I tried to do that, but I couldn't understand half of what they were saying. In dad's old Charms' book, they were talking about the Cheering Charm, you know? And it said you had to…" The other first years (those with magical parents, of course) complained good naturedly about the lack of detail in the more advanced textbooks.

The table fell silent as somebody approached from behind me, their shadow creeping up over my shoulders. I turned – it was Jeremy, and he didn't look particularly happy.

"We need to talk." He hissed into my ear, then stalked out of the Great Hall.

I frowned, looked at the other Ravenclaws about me in confusion, and hurriedly finished my slice of pie then got up. Leaving the Great Hall, I felt somebody's – several somebody's, in fact – eyes on me. Glancing back, Dumbledore was watching me carefully, as was Snape and McGonagall.

Once out of the Great Hall, Jeremy confronted me. "I heard Snape didn't do _anything _to you – how'd you do it? He's been completely unfair to me, just because _dad_ used to prank him!" He ranted on, not really giving me a chance to offer my advice – not that I had any, mind you.

"Well? Why didn't he take points off you? I heard he only asked you a few questions then backed off…" He looked at me, almost pleadingly.

"I…" I looked away, unsettled. "I don't know." Jeremy looked ready to fire up with indignation. "No, really! I really expected him to take points off me like he did with you, maybe even give me detention for giving him cheek just by answering his questions but…"

"You answered his questions? Hermione says the ones he asked _me_ were almost OWL material, and the ones Parvati said her sister said he asked _you_ were even higher!"

This time, I was really uncomfortable. "You know how I always read books? Well… sometimes I've been reading… reading our parents' old textbooks." I couldn't quite force the words 'mum and dad' out of my mouth, but Jeremy didn't seem to notice.

"Really?" He looked thoughtful for a bit – contrary to popular belief, not all Gryffindors were stupid and brash, Hermione Granger being one example. "Maybe I'll get mum to owl me those books… Unless you have them?" He looked at me hopefully.

"Um, sure. I mean, yeah, I have a few of them. Should I get them now?"

He nodded enthusiastically, and seemed ready to follow me to the Ravenclaw rooms. I held up a hand. "Uh… our… security only lets Ravenclaws in, so uh… just wait here, okay? I'll be back in five minutes." Jeremy looked a little off-put, but shrugged. "Ok, sure."

I hurried to the Ravenclaw dorms, mind buzzing. Why was I surprised that Jeremy might just be a little interested in studying? Had I already succumbed to the idea that just because he read less than me, he was stupid? I mean, we had the same parents, and they were both intelligent in their own right, with mother being quite the Hermione Granger, if the comparison were at all fair. Perhaps it was because Jeremy was always being spoiled, never really having to pull his own weight.

"So, when do you want them back?" Jeremy held the books carefully, knowing full well that they were our parents.

I shrugged. "It doesn't matter, they're not _mine_, after all. If I need them back, I'll ask."

"That's cool with me." Jeremy paused. "Although Hermione might… 'borrow' them for a while, if you catch my drift."

I snorted, then looked at him slyly. "What's this about Hermione? All I hear from you is Hermione this and Hermione that…" I trailed off playfully as Jeremy blushed.

"It's not like that! She's just really smart and I can't talk about _schoolwork_ and, and _Ron_ – he's lazy as anything. Or Neville – although I guess he's pretty awesome with Herbology. But you know, school and Hermione – they go hand in hand."

I sighed, shrugged. "Well, if that's all… I guess I'll see you around."

"Sure." He muttered absent-mindedly, already walking away and examining the books. He stopped and called back to me, though. "Make sure you Owl mum and dad once in a while – they've been waiting for you to send them a letter."

"Sure, sure, when I get around to it. Busy, busy, you know, keeping up with the other Ravenclaws!" I joked.

He laughed, and I wondered for the first time in a great many years if this was what I could have had if neither of us had been touched by the prophecy. If I could still have this sort of connection if I bothered to just keep up the act, keep the mask on.

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Author's Notes:- Clarifications:

1. Appearances - Harry no longer looks like canon Harry – less messy hair (it's more wavy), much taller (due to lack of malnutrition and the bungled potion) and healthier, brown hair, takes mostly after his mother. Jeremy is like canon Harry except taller (the malnutrition thing, remember) and healthier.

2. Snape – he doesn't like Jeremy because he reminds him of James too much. Harry does not, and there is the fact that Draco has been speaking of Harry to Snape. The potential friendship between Draco and Harry would not occur if Harry was belittled by Snape while Draco was favoured.

3. Occlumency – more like spheres that Harry utilizes to convince intruders that the first one is all there is in his mind. The 'circle' refers to the boundaries (like topside view of a sphere). First circle is outermost.

4. Learning from old books – this is less out there than learning from advanced texts that Harry bought from Knockturn Alley. The texts he did buy in Knockturn Alley are merely theory books for his extra-curricular program.

5. Hermione – yes, she's still as smart as ever.


	4. 04 Discussions

**Desiring Other Times**

Chapter 4 - Discussions

Disclaimer: Check this out! It's my own Special Edition 'I own Harry Potter' coin! flips coin coin disappears into void Nooooo!

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_The first time for anything is always the most vivid. Either it is the very worst or the very best; 'first times' are matters of extremes. The first time I realised I hated my brother and how utterly useless he was, I felt as if I should shake him about and demand why somebody so hopeless could be the Boy-Who-Lived. Perhaps I even felt like I wanted to kill him. But as time flows on, I find that my hate of him seems to have waned, seems to have reduced itself to a sort of irritated intolerance of his presence. _

_Of course, this may have something to do with my Occlumency exercises, and with my having begun to distance myself from everything. Occlumency helped me by sorting out how I truly felt about everything. And if I began to care less about everyone around me, I wouldn't care less about how stupid my brother was. Is. Whatever. _

_Apathy may be painted as a point of view that leads to a bleak future. But I guess it just goes to show how screwed up I am if only through Apathy can I perceive the brightest path for myself. _

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It was Halloween, and we were enjoying a more elaborate feast than usual when the main doors to the Great Hall banged open and Professor Quirrell hurried in.

"Troll!" he cried hysterically, voice devoid of any sort of his customary stutter. "Troll in the dungeons!" He visibly swayed on his feet. "Just thought you ought to know…" he trailed off and fainted flat on his face.

Some of the Ravenclaws frowned. "Did we just…?" "We _did_." "Did what?" "Just saw somebody-" "-faint _forwards_." "What's that got to do with anything?" "People don't faint forwards, idiot." "Don't call me an idiot!" "Well, if you didn't know _that_, then…!"

"SILENCE!" Dumbledore sent some sparks into the air, then proceeded to give instructions for the Prefects to lead everyone back to their dorms.

In the rush for the doors, Jeremy and Ron and Neville pushed their way to my side.

"Hermione's missing." started Ron.

"Don't tell me – she's in the toilets or something like that."

Neville nodded. "Parvati said somebody called her names and she's been in the first floor bathrooms for a while."

"And you think four first years can defeat a troll?"

Jeremy looked at his friends, shifting uncomfortably. "Well… we were just thinking we should get her out of there _before_ the troll."

"Ah." I shrugged – part of me was wondering why Jeremy had insisted on enlisting my help, seeing as Neville and Ron didn't know me that well anyway. "Fine. Lead the way then."

The snuffling sound of a troll echoed down the corridors when we reached the first floor, and we hurried a little faster to get to the girls' toilets. Just in time to see it enter the toilets. Where Hermione was. Apparently.

"Oh… _fudge_." muttered Jeremy.

Ron and Neville looked confused. "What's fudge got to do with this?" demanded Ron.

Jeremy and I ignored him. "We're going in." declared Jeremy.

And so Ron and Neville followed right behind Jeremy.

"Here we go again… 'Suffer the children…'" I muttered, trailing behind them at a cautious distance.

As expected of Ron – poster boy for 'I'm a Courageous Gryffindor With No Brain!' – he charged right in with a battle cry, wand brandished but not a spell on his lips. Jeremy and Neville seemed horrified at Ron's actions, and Hermione started screaming from within.

"_Oh_, great…" Jeremy was already sending several Stunners at the troll, while Neville seemed to be using his intelligence by pulling Hermione out of the way. Ron was still shouting at the creature and random flashes of light appeared (one of the chandeliers was blasted off the roof) as he waved his wand.

"_Reducto._" I intoned, pointing at the shoulder of the troll's dominant arm. A flash of blue light, and the arm the troll was holding the club in seemed to be dislocated and hung limply. I aimed again, this time for the troll's head. "_Concuterus._" The Concussion Curse hurtled across the bathroom and impacted with the troll just as one of Jeremy's Stunners hit, and the combined force ensured it was felled.

The thunderous sound the creature made as it hit the floor was surely more than enough to inform the staff as to our position, and when they burst into the toilets, wands brandished, it took them several seconds to take in the situation.

McGonagall was without a doubt furious, while Snape seemed quietly curious. Quirrell, however, was a quivering heap of nerves.

"What on earth were you thinking of? You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?" The three separate sentences seemed to have no direct link, and the lack of logic threw the others for a loop.

Jeremy tried the 'Sunshine-Out-His-Arse' routine. "We noticed Hermione was missing at the feast and… and so she wouldn't know about the troll. So we… we tried to look for her before the troll could get to her."

This was, in essence, what we _had_ sought to do, and even Snape with his Legilimency skills couldn't really fault us for that. McGonagall's lips thinned.

"Why weren't you at the feast, Miss Granger?" she asked. Hermione blanched visibly, and even Quirrell paused in his whimpering.

"I… I uh…"

"Out with it, girl." drawled Snape.

"I was… in here… freshening up." Rather skimming over the truth, but the best lies always contained a bit of truth. McGonagall seemed to get our drift from our expressions and how Hermione seemed very reluctant to elaborate. If anything, her expression grew even sterner.

"Very well. Fifteen points from Gryffindor and five from Ravenclaw for not following instructions." She paused, as if in some inward struggle. In the silence, I could hear the slight _tinkle, tinkle_ of the glittering gems that signified points in the Houses' hourglasses drifting back upwards. "Twenty points to Gryffindor for bravery, and also ten to Ravenclaw for helping a friend in need."

Inwardly I groaned. Enough with the cheesiness! As I projected that, Snape seemed to freeze and his lips twitched. He sent a mental probe in my direction, having already become acquainted with my mind. I gently placed the memory of the incident in the bathroom in the first circle, and watched as he found it. As McGonagall dismissed us (she sent Quirrell with me, as it wouldn't do to have a sole first year Ravenclaw wandering the castle, would it?), Snape edged towards the troll.

"…the boy was casting third year material!" The two professors' voiced bounced a little down the stone hallways, and I activated one my wristbands that could enhance my senses, only using part of the ward so that it only sharpened my hearing.

"Both of them?"

"Well… the Gryffindor one could cast Stunners well enough." Snape admitted grudgingly. "But the Ravenclaw! He pulled off a perfect Concussion Curse!"

Their voices became too far away for me to continue enhancing my hearing without risking severe damage if someone made a loud enough noise in my vicinity, so I deactivated the wristband ward. Quirrell had been silent the entire time we had left the bathroom, and he didn't say anything at all, not even when we reached the Ravenclaw mirror. He turned and walked away, and just as I was about to go through the mirror, a veritable wave of anger and hatred rolled towards me. Clutching at my head, I strode through the mirror, past all the surprised Ravenclaws and up into the dorm.

A wave of my wand later and the curtains were shut about my four poster, magically sealed so that my dorm mates couldn't pry. Groaning, I tapped the tip of my wand against my scar, casting a Chilling Charm. When the pain had receded somewhat, I opened my trunk and pulled out some Nerve Numbing ointment and rubbed it on and around my scar. Eventually, the pain had practically disappeared, so I unsealed the curtains and got up to leave the dorm.

Thomas and Terry were standing there, arms outstretched, just about to try to open the curtains. "Harry! You okay? You walked in here like You-Know-Who was after you!"

I paled a little as something occurred to me. Every time Quirrell was around me, my scar would tingle, or sting. But if I was ever presented with the _back_ of Quirrell, the scar would do a heck of a lot more than just sting. And what Terry had just said… "Shit." I muttered, and flopped back down on the bed.

"What? What's wrong, Harry?"

"I… I… uh, nothing, really. Just tired, you know."

They didn't seem to buy it, but accepted it anyway. "You sure you don't want to come on down and finish dinner? All the Houses have their own feast in their common rooms, because of the troll."

"Mm, whatever. Just let me…" I let loose a yawn. "…sleep… nap a little bit, okay?"

"Sure – but don't expect us to leave you anything!" They left, leaving me to think frantically about how Voldemort had anything to do with Quirrell. And his back.

I waved my hand lazily at the curtains and they swished shut smoothly, the deep blue velvet-like cloth shutting out the light. Stabbing a finger in the direction of my side-desk's lamp, I relaxed in the reassuring illumination of a steady crystalline light.

Quirrell, his back, Voldemort, pain in my scar – how were these related? Thoughts rambled endlessly until all of them hit dead ends, and I was left stumped. It was times like these I wish I had someone to confide in, someone older, wiser, trusted. But that was a silly illusion children held onto, that there would always be someone who could help them, could make everything right again. I knew that even Dumbledore was a far cry from what I what I needed – the way he seemed to treat Jeremy left me shuddering in cold nausea, as if he were a particularly disgusting slug that could somehow take over people's minds. Perhaps that was an increasingly accurate likening, an image that I would irrevocably associate with the Headmaster.

Footsteps sounded up the stairs, then the dorm door opened. The incredibly light footsteps alerted me to the fact that it was most likely _not_ a student – it could only be Professor Flitwick, Head of Ravenclaw.

"Mr Potter?" His squeaky voice sounded, pitched so even the curtains about my four-poster bed did little to muffle it.

I could feel his magic sensing out the charm I had placed on the curtains, and begin to softly slice through them. Deciding to save him trouble, I sat up, grabbed my wand (it wouldn't to do be caught wandless when the curtains swished open), waved it at the curtains and surveyed Flitwick's diminutive form.

"Mr Potter…" he began, and I was struck as to how odd it was to have the Head of House personally calling on a first year student. Even if I had just been in battle with a troll. _Even if_ I was the Boy-Who-Lived's brother, and had been present when he had 'defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'. The sense of _wrongness_ continued to swirl through me as Flitwick tried to both congratulate my 'helping' (more like perpetuating) defeat the troll and also to reprimand me for not doing as I had been told.

He sighed. "I believe your parents are here to see you. Please, follow me." Blinking a little, I stood up, my wand tucked back into its holster on my right arm. Trailing behind him as we descended the stairs, some of the other students paused to look at us. Flitwick led me out of the Ravenclaw common room, and to what I realised was the Headmaster's office.

"Just along here…" despite his size and apparent age, and also the pace he was setting, Flitwick did not seem at all winded. Rather, he was still as spry as if he had just set off on a morning jaunt. We stopped in front a stone gargoyle, a rather gothic monstrosity.

"Bullseyes." uttered Flitwick, and I took it to be the password as the gargoyle leapt aside immediately. The wall behind the gargoyle split, revealing the cavity beyond. Within was an escalator – albeit an escalator that curved about a central post, like a winding staircase that had become animated. I hopped onto the stone escalator behind Flitwick, and we began the laboriously lengthy ascent.

I dared not look below, as I was afflicted with a small degree of vertigo – for some reason, heights where brooms (or planes, or helicopters, or similar) were not involved had never agreed with me. It was a puzzling condition of mine, although my parents hadn't spent overmuch time worrying about it. They had merely made sure Jeremy didn't suffer from the same affliction (he didn't), and then done the equivalent of a shrug. For many years, I had searched high and low for a potion, a ward, a charm, _anything_, that could solve my dilemma. So far, my search had been fruitless.

Finally, we reached the top of the stairs. Stepping off of the staircase, I cast a cursory eye over the door – a heavy wooden piece, with brass ornamentation. The brass doorknocker was in the shape of a Griffin (perhaps an attempt to cause visitors to assume Dumbledore had been in Gryffindor – he hadn't), but what drew my eyes was the inscription that was etched rather thinly just at the edges of the door. Making sure I had a clear memory of the door (so that when I went over the memory in the Pensieve, I would be able to make out the inscription), I followed Flitwick into Dumbledore's office.

Within sat my parents and Jeremy. They didn't look up as I entered, even though they were facing in the direction of the door, with Jeremy's back to me. Flitwick fairly bounded up to Dumbledore's side, and declared in his squeaky voice that he had 'brought Mr Potter'. Only then did they glance up, smile in a manner I recognised as being rather fixed, then their expressions relaxed – just as they looked back down at Jeremy.

I cast a sidelong look at Dumbledore. His eyes twinkled from behind his half-moon glasses, but his eyes were on my parents and Jeremy. Flitwick looked at me, then at Jeremy, then back to me, then back to my parents and my brother, and so on and so forth. Eventually, he gave up and merely gazed at my erstwhile family. Seeing as nobody was talking or even looking in my direction anymore, I sat down in the chair beside Jeremy.

He twisted his head to the side, saw me, grinned wryly then returned to reassuring his parents that yes, he was alright, and no, he didn't need to go to St. Mungo's. A chirruping from behind me had me leaping up in fright, and I was halfway to brandishing my wand and yelling out _Reducto_ when my eyes landed on the glorious looking phoenix in the room – immediately, I realised this was the familiar of Dumbledore, Fawkes.

"Ah, that would be my phoenix, Fawkes." Dumbledore's voice weaved into the background noise of the office like a coil of dust kicked up underwater. Fawkes seemed to take offence at being called Dumbledore's phoenix – he squawked and spread his wings in a decidedly threatening manner, then soared up from his golden perch to wing about the circular office, to finally rest on the back of my chair.

Dumbledore looked at me straight in the eyes. "It seems Fawkes has taken a liking to you, Harry, my boy."

I shrugged, turned a little to regard the phoenix. Lifting a hand, I brought it up so that it was an inch from Fawkes' plumage. "May I…?" I asked, looking at Fawkes, but I could see in the corner of my eyes Dumbledore nodding. Fawkes bobbed his head down, and I brushed my fingers gently across the fiery feathers. Despite the fact that the typical phoenix was a creature of fire, with their bones and feathers and organs all made of solidified fire, I wasn't burned. This only happened if the phoenix really didn't want to hurt somebody when physical contact was made, when the phoenix was comfortable with the said somebody.

If anything, this impressed/interested Dumbledore even more. Even Flitwick seemed surprised, although I suppose saying it like that makes Flitwick look like a dimwit that didn't know anything about phoenixes.

"Mr and Mrs Potter? I do believe congratulations are in order for both of your children." In the back of my mind, I wondered if Neville or Ron or Hermione would get the same 'honours'. "For their actions, I award Special Awards for Services to the School and – let me see… yes, I believe fifty points for Gryffindor and Ravenclaw."

My parents gasped excitedly and hugged Jeremy. Flitwick's eyes narrowed as he noticed that not a mote of attention was spared for me. Even though I wasn't Jeremy Potter, I was still one of _his_ Ravenclaws', and this blatant favouring of another child did not sit well with him. However, there was nothing he could do without seeming like he was an overbearing parent that believed their child was the best – because that would make him no better than my parents.

I stood when I decided that I had wasted enough time there. Fawkes was jolted into flight, and he swung about the room until he finally landed. On my shoulder. "My apologies, but I'm afraid I have to go now – all this excitement has made me a little tired, not to mention my studies…" I trailed off, sure they would catch my drift.

"Of course, Mr Potter. Don't overtax yourself on our behalf – Professor Flitwick here will take you back." replied Dumbledore, and Flitwick bobbed cheerily. Hearing this, Fawkes finally returned to his perch. We exited the room, with my having not said a single word to my parents at all.

Flitwick and I were outside the Ravenclaw common rooms when he turned abruptly. "Mr Potter, I… I feel I must apologize, truly… for disturbing your sleep when…" He stopped, baulking at outright insulting my parents. Struggling for words, he settled for "Have a good night, Mr Potter." Nodding solemnly, he departed, leaving me to watch his receding back. And to rifle through his mind for anything interesting.

Sure in the knowledge that the human mind generally used (at most) about 10 percent of its full capacity, I copied his mind – not the entirety of it, just his memories and his knowledge, and also a few of the 'subroutines' within his mind that governed how he thought. It certainly wouldn't hurt to know what made Professor Filius Flitwick tick, as well as cut down the amount of time it would take me to _fully_ educate myself.

I held no illusions that Hogwarts was truly the greatest school of magic in the country, let alone the world. Okay, so maybe 'country' might be close, considering the same Ministry of Magic looks after the same pool of wizards and witches. Unfortunately, my parents cared just enough – about their reputation – that I _had_ to go to Hogwarts. As it was, Dumbledore sure knew how to pick his teachers – save Quirrell, considering even Binns knew what his subject was about – as all of them were at least masters of their arena.

What I found in my selective copy of Flitwick's mind surprised me – there was more than a _library_ of Charms knowledge or Duelling knowledge: there seemed to be almost infinite amounts of nicely organised boxes, each of which contained hundreds of pieces of information. This told me several things: that he was either a very organised man or had been along the road towards learning Occlumency but stopped, that he was far older than I assumed, and that he was most definitely a _king_ of Charms.

That very night, I began 'unpacking' the boxes and organising them within the innermost 'circle', the citadel of my mind. Memory may be a fickle creature to ordinary people – even witches and wizards – but to a person that has learned even a little of the theory of Occlumency and put it to practice would face no such problems. Even so, we still had to 'learn' things the same way – in order to have the things stored in our mind easily accessible, easily recallable, one had to make sure the 'connections' were secure and strong. The entire process of unpacking, sorting, connecting (not to mention debugging) would take me several months if I was lucky, two years if I wasn't.

Oh, it was Lisa Turpin. "Can I help you?" I asked politely. She stood there, unsure, flustered. "I… we… we were just wondering what Professor Flitwick wanted…?" At the end of her sentence, her voice lifted up almost two whole notes, turning the statement into a question.

"My parents came to visit." Telling the truth wouldn't hurt. Much. "Professor Flitwick thought I might like to see them."

"Really?" Earlier embarrassment forgotten, Lisa settled herself comfortably in the chair next to mine. "What were they here for? To see Jeremy?"

Inwardly, I rolled my eyes. For a Ravenclaw, she seemed rather _ignorant_ of the subtleties required when fishing for knowledge. But then again, she _was_ only a first year student. "Yeah – something like that."

"Wow… I wish my parents would visit _me_." Her voice was filled with half-veiled jealousy, and I quickly began to tire of the conversation.

"Well, they certainly weren't here to see _me_." I replied hotly, instantly regretting the words. But only because I could just _hear _her say 'Well, why would anyone come to see _you_?' Not wanting to wait and see if my prediction was correct, I stood up abruptly and muttered some excuse about being tired, then strode back up the stairs to the dorm.

Behind me, many of the Ravenclaws gathered about Lisa Turpin. Her voice was loud enough that I could hear her say "How _rude_! You'd think that he'd be a lot nicer seeing as his _brother's_ the Boy-Who-Lived…" The ridiculous jump in logic she'd performed escaped the others around her and many nodded and made noises of assent. What made having a famous saviour for a brother mean I would turn out nice? Surely it would be anything _but_ that!

I collapsed on my bed for the _third_ time in the last hour, and willed the curtains shut once again. Silent and wandless magic were difficult enough to perform on their own – with wandless being a much rarer skill/talent than silent – but in conjunction, the complexity increased almost tenfold. I had started using silent magic since I was seven, with the help of my late grandfather's wand that I had unearthed from cellar number two. Wandless magic had come later, and I had only started getting the hang of it when I started at Hogwarts.

An Owl hooted quite closely, and I realised it was _inside_ the dorm.

"Harry? It's a letter for you!" Thomas Gravey's voice sounded out. I leapt out of bed, dispelled the magic on the curtains and burst through the fabric, eyes darting left and right and everywhere, searching for the letter. In my haste, I almost collided with Thomas as he had just begun to approach my four-poster bed.

"Whoa! Careful there, Harry!" He chided good-naturedly, handing me the letter. Still having enough control of my faculties to not rip the parchment from his hands, I smiled and gripped the letter. It was unopened, thankfully.

There, on the front, was my name written in gold ink. And father's handwriting. What on earth? Why hadn't he just handed me the letter rather than owling it? Then I noticed the owl. It was the oldest, slowest, most dilapidated owl the Potter family owned – small wonder I had just gotten it: the date was for _four_ _days ago_. It was a wonder the owl had even managed to get inside the castle and find me!

_Dear Harry, _

_As you may have heard, Jeremy has made it into the Gryffindor Quidditch team! _

Actually, I _hadn't_ heard. The gossip lines hadn't caught hold of this little tidbit of information, but it was only a matter of time – my parents would only have sent the letter using this owl if all the others were taken: they weren't _that_ cruel as to deliberately choose this owl over the others if they were free.

_Considering the circumstances, we have bought Jeremy a Nimbus 2000. _

Wonderful, so they got him the best broom on the market – nothing less for the Boy-Who-Lived, of course. But why were my parents telling me about it?

_I have spoken to your mother, and she has agreed that should you reply by tomorrow-_

What the hell? They sent a letter to me that might not even get to me and they say _reply by tomorrow_!

-_tomorrow, then we will speak to Headmaster Dumbledore and perhaps he can arrange for you to be able to try out for the Ravenclaw team. Of course, if you get in, we will also buy you a Nimbus 2000. _

_Good luck, _

_James the Rockingest Dad in the World_

Trust him to put such a signature on a letter. So maybe that might explain why they were so cold to me. Sighing, I dismissed the owl, pulled out a quill and began to scrawl on a new piece of parchment.

_Dear Father, _

_I am afraid your letter did not arrive until today, full four days after you sent me the letter. As such, I was not aware of your proposal until, well, after we had all been to Professor Dumbledore's office. _

_The thing is, I'm afraid I must decline your offer – it would certainly smack of favouritism if I was even given the opportunity to try out for the Quidditch team, which would certainly not do for your's and mother's reputation, as well Professor Dumbledore's. There is also the issue of my acclimatization to Hogwarts – I am still not quite sure I can handle the-_

Sighing, I jabbed my wand at the piece of parchment and set it alight. The letter was going from a clinical refusal to a sobfest. Restarting the letter, I rewrote the first paragraph, then began anew on the second.

_Unfortunately, I believe that I am hardly capable of being on the Quidditch team and also balance my school work – that is, if I get in. This situation is temporary, of course, as I am sure I will have gotten used to the workload by next year. _

_Many thanks, _

_Harry_

Satisfied with this second draft, I rolled it up, sealed it magically and also with a conjured wax seal with the Potter crest, I opened the window next to my four-poster bed. I whistled sharply, a three-note pattern that resulted in my silver-grey eagle owl hurtling towards me from the Owlery. Proffering my left arm, the owl landed, claws clutching but not piercing the sturdy material my wand holster was made of.

"I need you to take this to father." I murmured softly to it, holding the rolled up letter out. It did a little hop, grabbed the scroll in one claw, then flapped its wings once, twice, then three times and it was off, rapidly disappearing into the night.

"How'd you do that?" Terry Boot – why did Ravenclaws have to be so damn nosy?

"Do what?"

"Call your owl. How'd you train it to recognise your signal?"

"I didn't. Someone else did." And it was true – I had purchased the owl from a trainer. Whose shop had been in Knockturn Alley, but I wasn't going to tell that to anyone anytime soon.

Terry seemed disappointed. "Oh. Where'd you get it from?"

"A specialist animal shop in London. Can't tell you anymore than that… the shopkeeper put me under a Secrets Oath, 'cos he doesn't want the entire of Wizarding London coming into his shop."

If anything, Terry is suspicious. "What's wrong with that? Having lots of customers, I mean?"

I sighed. There had to be _some_ way of throwing Terry off. "You'd get crowded stores, less time to train animals and not enough of them to go around. _And_ you'd be forced to sell to people like… like Dark Lords in training." Terry paled a little, then decided that he really didn't want to keep pursuing the conversation.

The letter my father had sent to me (four days ago) lay on my desk. Gazing at it, I wished I could drop my family as quickly as Terry had dropped the conversation.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Author's Notes:- You don't have to read if you don't want to:

1. Fainting – people faint backwards, not forwards. I'm using the movie here, as the book doesn't talk about which way Quirrell faints.

2. Jeremy and Co. approaching Harry for help – Jeremy knows that Harry knows at least as much as he does (remember they've been 'trained' by their parents). But considering what happened in the last chapter, he believes that Harry would be a great help if they encountered the troll. Not to mention he trusts Harry, as he's his brother.

3. The line Here we go again… 'Suffer the children…' is from Runaways, Season 1, Chapter 15.

4. Quirrell and Voldemort – Harry can tell the difference between his scar stinging and his scar 'burning'. Hence, he realised that when Quirrell has his back to him, it hurts even more.

5. Harry's apparent fear of heights – as stated, he only fears it when there isn't some sort of flying apparel holding him up. Which is strange, because for other people, it's the complete opposite.

6. Legilimency – rather than rummaging through someone's mind, it's much easier and less obvious to copy it, although time consuming.

7. Silent and Wandless magic – Silent magic is taught in Book 5. Wandless magic is hardly mentioned at all. Ergo, silent is easier to learn than wandless.

8. The owl sent to Harry – probably an 'heirloom' of sorts. The others were sent off by the parents to inform everyone else about Jeremy's entry into Quidditch.

9. Harry's refusal – remember him not wanting to be a person that was jealous of his brother? If he turned up for tryouts, actually tried, and hence got into the team, people really would talk about how he was copying his brother in an attempt to steal his brother's fame. The reasons he had begun to outline in the letter also apply, but to a lesser extent.

10. Harry's owl – purchased in Knockturn Alley. Not all shopkeepers in Knockturn are sellers of illegal things, just less… conventional items. A hidden store Harry stumbled upon, selling incredibly well trained animals.

I've had some reviews with people complaining that Harry's a little too powerful, that the Legilimency is too close to being psychic. I apologize for the latter as I've had a lot of influence from X-men (I'm an avid Ultimate X-men fan), but the former? Is he really too powerful? I suppose he is. In the following few chapters, Harry will only get more powerful, but in chapter 14, he. Is. Going. To. Fall.


	5. 05 Invitations

**Desiring Other Times**

Chapter 5 – Invitations

Disclaimer: If you think I am J. K. Rowling, you are sorely mistaken. And touched in the head.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

_There are a million and one things I believe that the general Wizarding world would not even consider. One is that I am the Boy-Who-Lived, another is that Voldemort is not dead. If he was, the connection to my scar would have nothing to connect to, and hence wouldn't be there. Another rather controversial belief of mine is that Albus Dumbledore does not know what is best for everyone. _

_Until the day I meet someone who can (at the very least) agree with me on these three points, I will walk this path of mine alone. _

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"…and heeeere's the Gryffindor team!" shouted Lee Jordan into the microphone, as the red and gold clad players strode out onto the field, brooms in hand. On the field, Madam Hooch did her customary pre-game talk, and the two captains shook hands (opposing team: Hufflepuff).

"They're off! Chaser Johnson seizes the Quaffle and the Lions form an Arrowhead Formation! She shoots-! She _scores_!" The roaring crowd chanted and screamed, the collective noise starting to get to me.

However, I kept close watch on the field as my parents had insisted I keep a memory of it to show them Jeremy's first Hogwarts Quidditch game when they had time. Ten minutes into the game, I realised that Jeremy's broom was jerking vaguely.

"What the…" I muttered, then cast my eyes over the crowd… there! In the teachers' box, _two_ staff members were looking straight up, muttering under their breaths. Despite how much I despised my brother, it wouldn't do if I let him _die_. I sprinted to the teachers' box, hit Quirrell with an Itchy Burn Hex (first he would filly itchy, then very uncomfortable, and then he'd burst into flames) while colliding heavily with Snape.

"Insolent child…!" cursed Snape before he realised who it was. Almost frantically, he looked back up in the sky and let loose a sigh of relief when it was apparent Jeremy was fine. He looked at Quirrell and wondered why Quirrell was suddenly no longer concentrating on Jeremy.

Snape glared at me. "Um… I wasn't sure which…!" I trailed off, and he quirked an eyebrow. "What did you do to him?" He murmured, sotto voce.

"Itchy Burn." I replied, and his other eyebrow rose up to join the first. Almost at exactly the same time, Quirrell spontaneously combusted. He screamed, and the teachers near him scattered then started to conjure water. The students in the other stands craned their necks to see what was going on, and I snuck off in the confusion.

"Where were you?" Padma asked when I sat back down with the other Ravenclaws.

"Nature called." I lied smoothly.

Gryffindor went on to win the match 220 to 40.

"Harry! _HARRY!_" I turned, and wondered what Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom could want with me.

"Yes?" They skidded to a halt before me.

"Uh… We… we saw what happened, with Professor Snape."

I frowned. "Snape?"

Hermione seemed exasperated by my apparent confusion. "Yes, _Professor_ Snape. He was Jinxing Jeremy, wasn't he? But why did you have to hit Professor Quirrell…?"

I smirked, realising they had decided Snape must have been the one who had been Jinxing Jeremy, and they hadn't even noticed Quirrell. "It wasn't Snape, actually. It was Quirrell – Snape was performing the _Anti-_Jinx. Didn't you wonder why Jeremy's broom didn't seem able to really throw him off?"

Ron turned a little pink. "It _has_ to be Snape! He's evil and he hates Jeremy! _Quirrell_ doesn't have anything against Jeremy! And how do you know it was Quirrell? Maybe _he_ was the one saying the Anti-Jinx."

"Just because someone doesn't like you doesn't make them evil. He might be a little unfair-" Ron snorted. "-okay, _very_ unfair to Jeremy, but he doesn't seem the kind of man that would… that would wish to attract the ire of James Potter more than he already has."

"Your father? What…?" Hermione was confused, unhappy really, that she was in the dark about something.

"Let's just say they went to school together and father… wasn't exactly very nice to Snape. _Very_ unkind, some would say."

Ron snorted, and Neville blinked owlishly. He certainly was a quiet boy, I noted. "Well, who _wouldn't_ be mean to him, I mean, he's such an awful _git_."

"Have you ever wondered why someone would turn out like that?" I asked Ron, and he turned defensive. Neville and Hermione looked thoughtful, however.

"What, are _you_ taking his side now? What are you, an honorary Slytherin?"

"I don't have to be in Slytherin to defend a staff member."

"Well, _Quirrell's _a staff member too!" He retorted.

Neville seemed to have had enough. "Ron! Just give it up! He's right – we can't assume that it was Snape. I mean, Dumbledore made Snape a Head of House – that must mean he trusts him somewhat."

Suddenly, I felt somebody ping me discreetly with Legilimency, and I realised it was Snape. He was coming closer, and his life had trained him to check if there was anyone ahead.

"Well, Dumbledore _hired_ the staff – surely we can trust them!"

"Boys," intoned Hermione. "I do believe we aren't getting anywhere by arguing over whether it was Professor Snape or Quirrell – let's just agree that it was _one_ of them that was Jinxing Jeremy." She paused, looking at Ron and Neville and I. We shrugged. "It's not like we can do anything to find out more, so let's just trust Professor Dumbledore, okay?" She turned to me. "What I _meant_ to say when I called you was _thanks_, for saving Jeremy."

"It wasn't me. It was Sn… _whoever_ was casting the Anti-Jinx."

"Still…" muttered Neville. "You helped. A lot."

"Would the four of you _move_, you're blocking the hallway." Snape glared at us, then strode past us when we moved, his robes swishing and rippling ominously.

"See? He's _evil_." declared Ron. Neville and Hermione sighed while I entertained the idea of beating some sense into Ron.

"Shut _up_, Ron." demanded Hermione. She and Neville began walking back to Gryffindor Tower, and Ron hurried after them.

"What a bunch of idiots…" I muttered under my breath before returning to the Ravenclaw Tower. It was times like these that I was really confused as to why everyone my age that were on 'the good side' had to be so immature about everything – even _Draco Malfoy_ had an edge on them. Speak of the devil…

"Harry Potter, we meet again. Long time no see, my good friend." declared Draco, approaching me steadily, Vincent and Gregory trailing behind him.

"Draco," I replied, nodding my head at him.

"Professor Snape informed me that you are quite an accomplished Potions student – he suggested that with this year's talent, we may be able to start an Accelerated Potions class. The Headmaster has agreed – you interested, Harry?"

I certainly was interested. Accelerated classes? That would mean I could be finished with all the school stuff earlier and have the time to learn other more important things. "That's an excellent idea, Draco. Do we have to get new timetables?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't know – he said that he'd swap around some of the First Year classes so we get one of the class lines, or something like that. But this will be an excellent opportunity, don't you think?"

I nodded. "Who else has been 'invited'?" At this, Draco scowled.

"_Dumbledore's_ the one who chooses who gets into the class ­– apparently that _mudblood_ Granger and your fool of a brother are going to be in it too." He paid attention to my expression, trying to discern whether I had taken offence. "Although I suppose Granger is better than _Weasley_ – I don't see how he can call himself a pureblood when even his mudblood sidekick knows more about magic than he does…" conceded Draco.

I smirked. "She _is_ rather well-read for a Muggle – but I'm sure she doesn't have access to certain… resources." Draco grinned at that too, and I caught a glimpse of the vast library in his manor and the vault filled with arcane artefacts beneath his home.

"You got _that_ right, Harry." He looked left and right, as if checking for eavesdroppers, then leaned in secretively. "You know… my father's on the School Governors Board, and he's only heard good things about you. And when _I_ spoke to Father about you, he asked if I could… invite you over sometime. Perhaps you would like to stay at my house for the holidays? Father says he understands how your parents are extremely busy for most of the school year, and he's offering to well, help share the load."

This conversation was getting stranger and stranger as it progressed. What next, proposed adoption by the Malfoys? "I'll think about it, Draco. It sounds like a wonderful idea, but I think my parents would expect that… that my _brother_ was invited as well." My tone turned distasteful, and even Draco wrinkled his nose.

"That _is_ a problem – but I'm sure Father can figure something out." He declared, sure of the fact that his father could do anything.

"Thanks, Draco. Tell your father that I greatly appreciate his offer." Draco smiled widely.

"Of course. So I suppose I'll see you in Accelerated Potions, then." With a nod, he and his two bodyguards were gone. I stood there for a few seconds, and then raced off to my dorm.

_Dear Father, Mother, _

_I know not whether this is fortuitous news or not, but Draco Malfoy has passed on an invitation by his father to visit his home in the holidays. Jeremy may have informed you that I have done what I can to not be an enemy of the Malfoys – it seems that they wish to pursue a more friendly relationship. _

_Know that I am a child of the Light forever, and awaiting denial or approval of permission, _

_Your son, _

_Harry_

Just as I was about to whistle for my owl, it flew in through the open window, clutching a letter from my parents, in reply to my refusal of the offer to be able to try out for Quidditch. Deciding I should read the letter first and gauge their mood, I unrolled the scroll of parchment.

_Harry, _

_It makes us proud that you have the maturity to make informed decisions, and that you value your education as much as we do. James is disappointed, of course, as he dearly wished he could say that both of his children became members of a Hogwarts House Quidditch team in their first year. Perhaps he believes it would make him look good at the Ministry. _

_Ah, but I digress. As it is, we love you dearly, Harry.__Know that if you change your mind, you need only ask. _

_Your loving mother, _

_Lily _

_PS: We apologize for the previous letter's lateness. It seems that Mercury has become too old to be reliable._

Hm… seems like they were in a favourable mood. My owl, Mittere, nibbled on an Owl Treat from the bowl I kept on my table. "Would you take this to either of my parents?" Mittere bobbed his head, then grasped the letter in one claw. "Thanks, Mittere." I smoothed his feathers down, and watched as he flew off once again.

With everything dealt with, I pulled out my homework assignments and worked my way through them. It took me about five hours (not counting breaks and dinner) to finish it all. The Ravenclaws around me were also focussed on their school work, so I retreated to the privacy of my four-poster bed and began a new Occlumency exercise I had read about in one of my books. It involved the creation of golems that masqueraded as normal memories when they weren't activated. If an intruder was sensed, they would activate and proceed to kick the shit out of whoever was stupid enough to enter. Given enough time (and if the intruder was unable to return to their body), the golems were capable of killing the intruder's projection, which should, in theory, kill the intruder physically.

When the first half-dozen golems had been created and posted within the innermost circle, I entered the chamber of my sorcerers' trunk. Once there, I activated the runes in the middle which actually increased my acceleration due to gravity. A few stretches and an hour of training exercises later, I exited my trunk, cast a Cleaning Charm on myself and then went to get a shower.

A steaming hot shower later and I was back on my bed, this time reading about the process of becoming an Animagus. It was a rather complicated process, involving two potions (a test to see if you were capable of becoming one, and another to both reveal the form and to unlock it from the recesses of one's mind), much meditation (so that the form allowed you to use it) and quite a large amount of magic. Some people argued that you only needed one potion – the Revealer/Unlocker, but some research into the matter uncovered the fact that if you _weren't_ capable of becoming an Animagus and took the Revealer/Unlocker, you would, at best, lose your magic, at worst, lose your life.

The first potion was a rather easy one to make, as it didn't need any time to mature and the ingredients were easily accessible. Checking to make sure there wasn't a specific timeline that I would need to follow (that is, I wouldn't have to take the two potions one after the other), I pulled out my Invisibility Cloak (purchased in Pecunia Alley), donned it, and left the Ravenclaw Tower.

Five minutes later, I was in the Room of Requirement, and had 'Required' the Room to supply the ingredients for the potion and the equipment required. Half an hour later, I was surveying the goblet of potion. "Cheers," I toasted to nobody, and drank the potion. It tasted of – funnily enough, considering all my experiences with potions had me expecting them to all taste foul – strawberries and mint, even though I hadn't added any such ingredients.

I swallowed, waiting with bated breath.

And promptly fell unconscious.

I dreamed of a flash of green light and the sound of rushing air, of explosions and the brilliant red-orange flames of destruction. I dreamed of the night Voldemort came to kill my brother and me and was beaten.

By the time I awoke, it was an hour and a half later – almost nine o'clock. Curfew was at ten. The fact that the potion had knocked me unconscious pointed towards the fact that I _was_ capable of becoming an Animagus – and not something as mundane as a cat or a rabbit or a sparrow. People that were destined to become those sorts of Animagi merely suffered a bout of wooziness, but wizards and witches that were knocked unconscious had a high chance of becoming a magical creature.

Elated with this discovery, I returned (cloaked again) to Ravenclaw Tower. Awaiting me was Mittere, perched on the small wooden perch I had fashioned for him and nibbling an Owl Treat. Seeing me, he stretched out his leg, and I removed the attached letter.

_Harry,_

_We need to talk through a secure connection. Call me with your mirror. _

_Father._

Deciding I couldn't quite stall, I did so, pulling my Communication Mirror from the third compartment of my trunk. I closed the curtains about my bed, put a Silencing ward on them and then forced the recording ward on my Ravenclaw wristband to temporarily record the sound of someone periodically turning the pages of a book and not performing any magic at all.

"James Potter," I intoned clearly at the mirror. Almost immediately, my father answered.

"Harry?" His voice issued from my mirror, and I could see my father's face displayed in the 'mirror'. "Good, you got my letter. Now…" His voice turned businesslike. "You wrote that the Malfoys have invited you to their Manor for the holidays. I've spoken to your mother and she doesn't agree with me on this but… well, we – that's Albus and I – were wondering if you were willing to go in as a _spy_." The way he said it dramatically was meant to pique my 'childish' curiosity.

I frowned. "A _spy_? Well, I suppose… but what about…" I forced a look of intense concentration on my face. "Is it… 'Legilimency'? The ability to read minds? What if Lucius Malfoy tries to read my mind?"

Father seemed to be shocked that I knew of that obscure branch of magic. "Well, I'm sure Albus can teach you Occlumency to protect your mind. But only if you want to!"

"What am I supposed to spy _on_?"

"Well, if he's got any illegal Dark Arts stuff, if he meets questionable people, things like that. And didn't you tell Jeremy at the start of term that you weren't the sort of person who ran away?" I was surprised that Jeremy actually remembered my words well enough to tell them verbatim to my parents.

"Well, I suppose. But only if I get these… 'Occlumency' – is that right? – those lessons."

"Excellent, Harry! I'll tell Albus that now." Without saying goodbye, he cut the connection.

Oh dear gods, my father was sending me into perilous territory with nary a back-up. And the holidays were rolling around next month. Shit.

I Dispelled the Silencing ward on my curtains and 'unlocked' them. It was around half past nine by then, and my dorm mates had gone to the bathrooms to brush their teeth. I joined them at the sinks, and we went through with the evening ablutions in companionable silence.

By the time we had finished and gone back to the dorms, a regal looking owl had joined Mittere on the perch.

I removed the letter from the new owl's leg, and broke the wax seal on it (Hogwarts' crest).

_Dear Harry, _

_Your father has informed me of your volunteering your services. Supplementary lessons in preparation for this will occur every evening in my office from eight to half-past nine at night. _

_I am told my gargoyle likes Pez – do bring some along. _

_Albus Dumbledore _

Well he sure worked fast… Eight to half-past nine, that cut into my training time. How troublesome – now I'd be forced to use those wards I'd placed onto the last wristband I wore that I still hadn't used. The wards slowed time down for everyone and everything except for me, and there had been two planned uses for that wristband – one was to give me more time, and two was to give me an edge over opponents. Fortunately, I had already stocked up on potions that slowed my aging and growth processes at about the rate, so I wouldn't age several weeks in what would seem like a few minutes to others.

There were definitely several perks to being 'officially' trained in Occlumency – it meant I could begin to use the more conventional means of protecting my mind rather than beat about the bush with my rather feeble 'defences'.

I fell asleep wondering if Jeremy would also be there at the lessons.

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Author's Notes:- To clarify:

1. In canon, the House Harry is playing against when he gets Jinxed is Slytherin. I wanted to make things different, so it's Hufflepuff.

2. Itchy Burn Hex – Causes the target to become so itchy they can't focus on anything else and then they burst into flames. Flames are somewhat resistant to water.

3. Neville – smarter than he's given credit for, he is still a quiet kid.

4. Accelerated Potions – accelerated classes get to learn the curriculum faster. In reality, this generally occurs for subjects like Languages, Maths, Science and social subjects like History.

5. Mittere – Latin for 'send', basis for transmit and message

6. Invisibility Cloak – Harry bought one in Pecunia Alley. Though they are rare and expensive, Harry's been saving for a very long time.

7. Magical/Non-Magical Animagi – some people complain that the ability to turn into a magical creature makes characters into Mary Sues and Gary Stus. This is true if everyone turns into a Basilisk or a Griffon or a Chimaera or a Dragon or something like that. The Magical Animagi in this story will generally be less 'out there' – remember McGonagall's form is a Kneazle (or similar).

8. Mirrors of Communication – exactly like the mirror Sirius gave Harry in canon.

9. Pez – rectangular candy that comes with a dispenser that has the head of a cartoon character (or similar children's entertainment icon) at the top and is attached to a plastic shaft where the 'cartridges' of candy are placed. If you know Bleach, it's like the dispenser for the Soul Candy.

10. Slowing Time – if going back in time only needs a tiny little hourglass and a chain, then merely slowing time should be easier. Enter Wristband of Time Stretching.


	6. 06 Mind

**Desiring Other Times**

Chapter 6 - Mind

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter I would have a gun with which I shot everyone else who said they owned Harry Potter. But I don't.

Two chapter Double Release - two now, two later this week. I'm on exams, but I have a little time in the morning to load up the chapters. Also, I have holidays soon, and rather than that meaning I have time to update, I have less because the net at home just got cancelled (we're looking for another provider now), and my parents are evil.

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_"The dual arts of Occlumency and Legilimency are mastered only by those with true talent with magic, in particular, mind magics. For any generation of magical children in the world, about five out of every thousand have the natural ability to learn these arts to any degree of success, however limited. True mastery is even rarer – sometimes, a whole generation is born, lives and dies without a single one of them having learnt all there is to know about Occlumency and Legilimency. _

_If there comes a time when the world is cursed with an inability to have at least one master at a time, then this book is for when someone is born with the ability to learn the arts detailed within these pages. Should there ever be no masters of Occlumency and Legilimency in the world, then you need go no farther than this tome." _

_ Mind Magics: Occlumency and Legilimency, by Merlin, updated by others. _

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"Are you ready, boys?" I glanced at Jeremy, who had only just managed to get his breath back. Despite his obvious exhaustion, he nodded. Resigned, I nodded as well.

"Very well." uttered Dumbledore. He and Snape levelled their wands at Jeremy and I (Dumbledore at Jeremy, Snape at me), then chanted together "_Legilimens!_"

Almost instantly, my eyes stopped seeing Dumbledore's office, but in that split second between being in the physical world and crossing over to the mental world, I cried "_Protego!_" Snape didn't even get a chance to get into my mind.

"Very good, Mr Potter." He congratulated, and then turned to regard Jeremy with a sneer. "It seems your brother does not seem to be having the same… fortune as you. Not that it matters – it isn't _he_ who is going into danger." We'd only just started doing the practical part of the lessons, but I was already well on the way to mastering Occlumency. Learning when you had mentors sure beat learning by yourself.

A week ago, I had turned up at Dumbledore's office to be greeted by the presence of my parents, Jeremy, Dumbledore and Snape. The 'adults' had explained that they were members (Dumbledore was leader, actually) of a group called The Order of the Phoenix, a group dedicated to the destruction of evil. Snape had been revealed to be a spy for the Order of the Phoenix, a Death Eater that had been 'turned'. He in turn had disclosed that he had wanted Draco and me to become friends so that if – when – Voldemort returned, my influence may have swayed Draco to 'our' side.

Suddenly, Dumbledore stumbled backwards, his arms windmilling a little and his wand was no longer pointed at Jeremy. Opening his eyes, Jeremy smiled at my blearily. "I did it! I pushed him out!"

"Not before he'd been inside your mind for several minutes, idiot boy!" chastised Snape, and the smile dropped off Jeremy's face to be replaced with anger.

"Now, now. Let's not fight, gentlemen." Jeremy fought his way to his feet again. "Shall we try again after a little break?" Jeremy nodded. It was almost nine o'clock, and he was achingly tired.

"Here." I pulled out an unopened package of Honeydukes Chocolate – last Hogsmeade outing the Ravenclaw Prefects had asked everyone if they wanted to order some lollies from Honeydukes, and I had put in for five galleons worth of sweets.

"Thanks," said Jeremy, and he bit into the chocolate with much relish. Pausing for a moment, he asked me "Aren't you going to have any?"

I shook my head. "Nah – I've already had some." Snape looked at me curiously, wondering why I had lied. Dumbledore and Jeremy didn't know any better, however, as they assumed I had had the chocolate when they had both been in the world of the mind.

"Ok." Two minutes later, he had finished two of the rows of chocolate. Stuffing the rest into a pocket, he turned to Dumbledore. "I'm ready to try again."

Dumbledore nodded. Snape, however, spoke up. "This time, don't stop me before I get into your mind – an enemy won't wait until you know he's going to use Legilimency on you." I nodded.

"_Legilimens!_" I waited for Snape to try and pierce the first few flimsy fortifications I had made, and when he finally reached the first circle (my original design had actually been quite good – I just needed to add some conventional means of defence), I gathered a little magic and _pushed_ against the ball of magic that was his mental projection. In the real world, Snape staggered backwards several steps before regaining his balance.

He smiled. "_Excellent_ work, Mr Potter. You didn't even use a spell!"

"Hyaaaaaargh!" screamed Jeremy, and Dumbledore was flung backwards a few feet. Snape's eyes widened, as did mine. Jeremy had certainly put a lot of magic into that blow, and if he was capable of doing that each and every time-

Snape, Dumbledore and I were sorely disappointed when Jeremy fainted dead on the floor. "Pity," said Dumbledore. "But I guess it still shows that Jeremy Potter is an amazingly strong wizard." He turned to regard Snape and I. "Severus, would you like to continue on with Harry or…?" Dumbledore gestured at Jeremy.

It wasn't really a question, it was more a request for Snape to take Jeremy to the Hospital Wing, leaving Dumbledore to test me. "I'll take him to the Hospital Wing, Albus." murmured Severus softly. Dumbledore smiled, then turned to me.

"Ready?" I nodded.

"_Legilimens!_" Dumbledore pierced through the outer defences like an arrowhead through buffalo hide – not extremely quickly and easily but doing it nonetheless.

I had already begun to gather magic, and I coiled it about Dumbledore's projection tightly then flung him out like a catapult. My eyes reverted back to viewing the real world, and I saw that Dumbledore had been flung across the room like a doll. Fortunately, he had collided with his very cushiony chair.

"Professor!" I hurried to his side. "I'm sorry, I must have used too much magic…" I trailed off as he gazed at me. To many, they would have thought he was proud of me, like a grandfather that has just taught his grandson how to ride a bike. But I knew that behind that image was a calculating mind that was wondering why on earth I was so much stronger than Jeremy, so much more talented.

So much more intelligent.

"That was excellent work, Harry. I'm sure if Lucius were to even _try_ to read your mind you would be able to throw him out easily." He reassured me, and I grinned.

"Thanks, Professor." I paused. "I won't let you down, I promise!"

Dumbledore smiled in a grandfather-like manner. "I'm sure you won't, Harry." He looked at the clock. "Well, how about we have an early night tonight, Harry?"

I shrugged, then nodded. "Sure. I'll go check if Jeremy's alright first, though."

"Of course. Perhaps I should go with you."

We walked to the Hospital Wing and were promptly greeted by Madam Pomphrey's clucking antics. "Magic exhaustion – what _have_ you been doing, Albus? Sitting him in front of a Dementor?" Madam Pomphrey almost immediately regretted those words when Dumbledore put on a thoughtful look, as if seriously considering her idea.

"Surely you _wouldn't_…!"

"Well, it would certainly be an interesting way to teach them _Expecto Patronum_." replied Dumbledore rather matter-of-factly.

In one of the boxes of Flitwick's knowledge I had already unpacked, I had found the Patronus spell and had subsequently integrated that knowledge into my mind. A little practice had revealed that my Patronus had no form – normally, a Patronus took on the form of whatever the creator associated most closely with protection. Magic was my protector but magic had no form, and thus no limits. Consequently, my Patronus turned out to be one of (if not the) most powerful Patroni in all of history.

"Albus! They're only eleven years old!"

Dumbledore chuckled, but this seemed to infuriate Pomphrey even more. "This isn't a laughing matter, Albus! I won't have you putting a student into a situation that's too much for them!"

For the first time, I wondered if they thought my going to Malfoy Manor was far too much for the meagre powers they assumed I possessed. Dumbledore chose not to mention my reason for learning Occlumency, and was saved a tongue-lashing by Pomphrey.

Jeremy lay in one of the beds, so pale, so small. Several flasks of potion sat on the bedside table, some full, some not.

"He's going to be ok, isn't he?" I asked Pomphrey, and she smiled somewhat condescendingly and reassuringly at me.

"He's going to be fine – no thanks to your Headmaster over here, though." She mock glared at Dumbledore, who smiled benignly at her.

I sat next to Jeremy for a few minutes. "I have to go now – curfew's soon." With that, I left the Hospital Wing and returned to Ravenclaw Tower.

Along the way, I noticed that in the classroom next to where I was, something was radiating so much magical energy that I could feel my teeth vibrating with it. Stepping cautiously into the room (both wands out but hidden by the wide sleeves of my robes), I saw that the only remarkable thing in the room was a gold-framed mirror that reached up to the ceiling and stood on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_. Staring at it, part of me recalled that I still hadn't had a look at my memory of the door to Dumbledore's office. The rest of my mind tried to figure out what the inscription meant – then it clicked.

"I show you not your face but your heart's desire." I read from the mirror, and inwardly I wondered if I really wanted to know what I truly wanted. Paranoia caused me to cast _Finite Incantatem_ on myself in an effort to dispel whatever Compulsion Charm the mirror had laid upon me, but to no avail. I sighed, and stepped before the mirror.

There in the mirror, was me before a mirror that looked exactly like the one I was currently standing in front. And within that mirror was an image of me before another mirror, and so on and so forth. And then the mirror in the mirror I was looking at cracked, then shattered into pieces.

"What the…?" Fortunately, the real mirror wasn't damaged at all. "Is _that_ all I want?" I asked myself, then realized that my Occlumency shields might be preventing the mirror from looking into my 'heart'.

"Well," I spoke aloud to the mirror. "I'm not going to deactivate my wards just to be told something I already know."

"Is that so?" Said a voice from behind me.

My heart started thumping so loudly that I could feel my eardrums pulsating. Breathing in and out in a steady pattern, I inconspicuously slipped my wands back into their holsters.

"What can I do for you, Professor?" I asked, voice calmer than I felt.

I turned around. Quirrell stood there, wand pointed right at my heart. The door was shut behind him. Locked, probably.

"You can start by moving away from the mirror." I did so, but he snapped his fingers and ropes sprang out of nowhere to bind me. "_Accio wand!_" He cried, and my primary wand soared out of its holster and into his hands. It was exactly for situations like these that I had deactivated the Anti-Summoning charm on that holster, but kept it on for the second wand.

Quirrell paused, thinking. "_Accio weapons!_" He cried, but nothing flew out – I wasn't carrying any sort of blades (which he was probably visualizing, and not even bothering with other sorts of weapons). Sure in the knowledge that I was weaponless, he pocketed my wand and turned to look at the mirror.

"Such an interesting mirror… hiding such an amazing secret – fitting really, that a mirror that shows your desires hides the very thing needed to help you achieve them." murmured Quirrell, but what he was talking about, I had absolutely… no… idea?

Hang on. I rummaged through the Flitwick Files (as I had dubbed them) and just as Quirrell had begun tapping at the mirror with his wand, I found what I was looking for.

"The Holy Grail." I murmured softly, and Quirrell looked at me sharply.

"Yes, that's right. The Holy Grail – although how you managed to find out that little tidbit of knowledge… Well! That only proves that you're a meddling fool that doesn't know where not to stick his nose into… Scurrying around the school on Halloween like that – for all I knew, you lot had seen me going to look at what was guarding the Grail…"

"The third floor right hand corridor? But why… what on earth?" I was really confused right about then.

"Why isn't the Grail itself there? Haven't you heard of misinformation, Mr. Potter? It almost worked – I had no idea the Mirror, it being the final clue to where the Grail is, was hidden elsewhere in the school, but dear, dear me…" Quirrell was becoming agitated as time passed, and he was still unable to retrieve the Grail. To distract himself, he spoke detachedly to me.

"Yes, Halloween. You and your sidekick brother and foolish friends charging in to save a pathetic mudblood from a pathetic _troll_."

"The troll… _you _let it in, didn't you?"

"Why yes… I have a special gift with trolls – I find them quite useful, really. A little bit stupid but how is that any different to the typical wizard?"

While he was a talking, I continued to rifle through what Flitwick had known about the Grail, the protections and Quirrell.

"I see the Grail… I'm presenting it to my master… but where _is it_!" He demanded in a hissing whisper. "I don't understand… this is supposed to be the final clue! Is the Grail _inside_ the mirror? Should I break it?"

"Who are you working for?"

Quirrell turned suddenly, quite startled. "What, you mean you _still_ don't know?"

I looked at him. "Lord Voldemort, right?"

Quirrell smirked. "Of course – there is no greater master to serve under. And when I have the Grail, he will punish you for dirtying his name with your filthy half-blood tongue."

I narrowed my eyes. "What, is here with you?"

Quirrell paled, shuddered. "He… he is always with me." He scowled, then turned to regard the mirror once more.

"What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!" He cried, and what happened next scared me so much I thought my heart was going to stop from the shock.

A cold, high voice, issued from somewhere near where Quirrell was standing. I had heard that voice before – I heard it every time I dreamed of that night that changed the Wizarding World.

"Use the boy… use the boy…" it whispered, and I realized it was slightly muffled. Quirrell's back. Muffled. The voice was coming from beneath his turban!

Quirrell strode to me, dispelled the ropes, grabbed a handful of my robes and hauled me upwards. He dragged me before the mirror and forcefully turned my head to face the mirror.

I gazed into the mirror, and I realized that for the first time in my life, I really _wanted_ to play the hero. I _wanted_ to stop Quirrell and Voldemort getting their hands on the Grail. For someone as young as I, eternal life and the ability to transmute anything into anything merely by flinging water that had been in the grail at it… okay, so maybe the transmutation thing was cool, but eternal life seemed so pointless. So boring.

In the mirror stood myself, this time facing me. The me in the mirror stood next to a carved stone pillar, and on top was a wooden cup that had been worn smooth by the ages, with intricate carvings trailing across it. Mirror me pulled out his wand (coincidentally the customized one), pointed it at the Grail and shrunk it. He then put the tiny Grail into his left robe pocket.

At the same time, a light weight slipped into my right robe pocket.

"…do you see? Well? Answer me, Potter!" Quirrell was shaking me, and seemed to have been demanding what I'd seen for quite some time.

Wandlessly, I caused the cloth at the bottom of my pocket to wrap tightly around the Grail as if it had been sown into my clothes, which resulted in my right pocket being a little more shallow than the left. I blinked then looked at Quirrell right in the eye. "I saw the Mirror breaking. It was what I saw earlier, when you walked in on me."

Quirrell cursed and turned to look at the mirror again. But then the cold voice – Voldemort's voice – spoke again. "He lies… He lies…"

Turning back to me again, Quirrell flung his hand out and I was thrown and pinned against the wall. "Potter! Tell me the truth! What did you see!" Spittle flew from his mouth, and I grimaced.

"Let me… speak to him. Face… face to face…" said Voldemort. His voice was still muffled.

"Master, are you sure…?"

"Quentin." With that one word, Quirrell acquiesced.

Some morbid, perverse part of me was so curious to see what would happen, what Voldemort would look like, that I was rooted to the spot. Quirrell reached up to his turban, untucked the end of it and began unwinding the thick purple fabric.

"You know people who wear purple are sexually confused?" I blurted out, and Quirrell glared at me. The last part of the turban came undone, and Quirrell slowly rotated on the spot until I was presented with the back of his head.

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Author's Notes:- Don't hate me for stopping it there!

1. Time Frame – it's December, not yet Christmas so Jeremy hasn't gotten James' Invisibility Cloak yet. Or even one of his own.

2. Hogsmeade – only third years and above can go on the excursions, but wouldn't it be nice if the Prefects got orders for the kids?

3. Patronus – Harry doesn't associate his parents with protection in this AU, but rather associates magic with protection.

4. The First View of the Mirror – the mirror could only view into the first circle, and he didn't want to know what his heart's desire was so it showed him the mirror breaking.

5. Accio – To summon something, you have to visualise it. While wands are not all the same, Quirrell has viewed Harry's wand before in class.

6. Holy Grail vs. Philosopher's Stone – The story needed a change, to make it more AU. Note that Biblical sources say it can only furnish food for those without sin, and it could blind the impure of heart and strike mute the irreverent who came into its presence. Other stories say the Grail can give the drinker eternal life. I've taken the eternal life and combined it with transmutation properties (Christ turned water into wine, so surely something that he both drank from and held his blood would have something of that power!). Why not the Biblical powers? Because Voldemort and Quirrell wouldn't bother to find it.

7. The pocket thing – imagine a nut. Then imagine two squares of cloth. Then imagine you sewed the two pieces of cloth so that it sealed the nut inside. That's the Grail wrapped about by the cloth that made up the bottom of his pocket, and now he has a shallower pocket.

8. Purple – not exactly sure where I heard this or the source of this connotation, but it may have something to do with the novel 'The Colour Purple". And 'queens' – colour of British royalty is purple.

The timeline has is being moved forward at a _much _faster pace now: it's not even Christmas, yet Harry is facing off against Lord Voldemort! Not to mention he's learning Occlumency – almost five years earlier than in canon (although people debate whether he learned anything in fifth year).


	7. 07 Heart

**Desiring Other Times**

Chapter 7 - Heart

Disclaimer: Mary had a little lamb, and she had a duck. She put them on the mantelpiece, to see if they would… fall down. No, I don't own that 'rhyme' or Harry Potter.

Author's Notes: A lot of people have complained that the 'Most Powerful Patronus' is a little too unrealistic. As I said in the notes of chapter 5, just because he 'took' it from Flitwick's mind doesn't mean it's all correct. Harry hasn't had the time to experiment on a _real_ Dementor, and as many people have pointed out, you need eye-contact to do real Legilimency. Harry obviously thought he was so damn smart that he could do Legilimency without eye contact (probably attributed it to 'the power the Dark Lord knows now'), and didn't bother verifying anything he found. And I know that by addressing those complaints, I'm completely and utterly spoiling the story when you actually read about it! Hint! Don't stop reading just because you find certain points unrealistic, this is written in first person and people aren't always right.

And just because I'm feeling nice, I'll wipe out the entire buffer and release… all the chapters up to chapter 14. Because that's the last you'll be hearing of me for a while, since I'm going on holidays where my access to the internet will be quite limited.

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_Ever since I was young – gods, that makes me sound old – I have learned how to look after myself. Some of it wasn't really because I was ignored, I mean, I learned how to cook because my mother cooked as well. Because she didn't want to be in a situation where she had raw food and yet was going hungry. But the rest, like making sure I didn't get ill, that I had the things I needed, that I was getting where I needed to be, all of that I've had to handle by myself. _

_I suppose it's helped me prepare for the world. I suppose it's the reason why I connect magic with protection so strongly that it's my Patronus. I suppose it's the reason why my magic keeps getting stretched and strengthened (and hence increased) because I didn't quite make my wristband wards correctly or in a way that didn't strain at my reserves (particularly the one that stretched time). _

_Perhaps the saying that 'What doesn't kill you makes you stronger' is true. But there are limits. I for one would not like to be subject to the torture techniques of the Spanish Inquisition. _

_For all the anti-Muggle propaganda of the Wizarding World, Muggles sure are scary. _

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Where the back of Quirrell's head should have been was a face, a mask like waxy white face with glowing crimson eyes and thin slits for nostrils. I had heard Voldemort had been of Slytherin house, but to make his face look like a snake seemed a little too in awe of the Founder.

"Jeremy Potter…" the face murmured, lips so thin that they seemed hardly there.

I frowned. "Actually, no."

Voldemort scowled. "Not what, Potter!" He demanded.

"Not Jeremy." I answered matter-of-factly, my courage returning with the knowledge that Voldemort didn't even know who I was.

"Fool!" Rage, horrible red hot rage, and Quirrell bent over in pain so that Voldemort's face was pointing up at the roof. Quirrell moaned, then screamed. "Stand _up_, you worthless idiot!" demanded Voldemort, and I found the entire scene morbidly amusing.

Eventually, Quirrell managed to stagger upright and I was presented with Voldemort's face again.

"So." said Voldemort. "_Harry_ Potter, eh?"

I nodded numbly.

"Not Jeremy?"

Nod, nod.

"Pity. I would have so enjoyed murdering your brother, but I suppose I'll have to do with the Boy-Who-Lived's brother." Suddenly, I realised that before, Voldemort had sounded weak, raspy, but now, he sounded normal. Well, as normal as his chilly voice could be.

"Well, boy, why don't you give me that cup in your pocket?" Quirrell began walking backwards, so that Voldemort's face came closer and closer.

I stepped backwards, and Voldemort's face twisted into a snarl.

"Don't think you can escape, boy. Better save your worthless hide and give the Grail to me, and maybe I'll show you some mercy."

"Heh. The only mercy you know is killing people." I declared, and his face twisted into a perverse smile.

"Of course – that's what I live to do, to kill those filthy mudbloods. I'll send you on and then I'll have your family join you soon enough, Potter."

I snorted. "You're a fool, Voldemort." With that, I flung myself in the direction of the door, hands already releasing the catch on my left arm's holster and grasping my second wand, ready to unlock the door when…

"Seize him!" ordered Voldemort, and Quirrell whirled around, leapt at me, his hands gripping me about my neck.

I sent a wave of magic at my wristbands, and suddenly everything felt extremely light. Kicking upwards, I hurled Quirrell up, up until he collided with the ceiling in a shower of rock dust.

Voldemort was shouting something (I realised just then that I'd hurled him up so that _Voldemort_ was the one who made first contact with the ceiling), but I didn't pause to listen.

"_Reducto!_" I cried, but Quirrell dodged and I only dislocated and broke his upper left arm.

His wand was out and fear shivered through me, but then I was moving, fast, impossibly fast, weaving in and out of his spells and hurling curses and hexes and charms and spells at him, all of which hit him. Sometime during the fight I had Summoned my primary wand back to me and was using it instead of my second wand – if anyone were to come in, I couldn't let anyone know about my customized wand.

The door blasted open, with the heavy wood flying across to hit Quirrell and sending him into the wall. Dumbledore strode in and I reactivated my perceived gravity wristband again, so I wouldn't make a mistake and accidentally move at a speed nearing half the speed of sound. The world became heavy, then my body remembered how to move under the extra stress.

Quirrell struggled up from where he had landed, and froze when he spotted Dumbledore.

"Dumbledore."

"Quentin. Tom." greeted Dumbledore.

"Don't call me that!" shrieked Voldemort.

A pause. Then Quirrell suddenly shrivelled up and a ghastly vapour formed about him. Dumbledore took a step forward, then levelled his wand at the vapour. Before he could say a spell, however, the vapour shot towards the windows and disappeared through the cracks in the side of the frame. A shrivelled mummy slumped to the ground and imploded into tiny motes of dust.

"Is… is it… over?" I asked, swaying slightly.

Dumbledore caught me as I fell. "It's over, Harry, it's over."

When I woke, the world was a blurry mass of white and grey and gold. Blinking, the colours separated until I realised I was looking up at the gold chandelier in the ceiling of the Hospital Wing. The bed I was lying on was soft, so soft, and the warmth of the bed was so delicious when combined with the chill of the Autumn air.

"Mr. Potter, you're awake!" Madam Pomphrey's face appeared in my line of sight, and then the top half of my bed suddenly started rising, until it was like I was sitting on a sofa.

"Here." Pomphrey handed me two flasks, one with a deep purple potion and the other with an aquamarine coloured potion. "This," she hefted the greenish-blue potion. "Will help you overcome the strain caused by almost emptying your magical reserves. _This_," she held up the purple potion. "Is Dreamless Sleep potion."

I blinked. "Thanks," I said, reaching for the potions.

"Actually, Poppy, I would like to speak with Mr. Potter for a few minutes, if at all possible."

She huffed, and puffed, and blew as hard as she could (okay, so maybe she was just arguing with Dumbledore), but to no avail.

"I'll be back in _five minutes_, and Mr. Potter _will_ be taking potions then." Then she was gone.

Dumbledore sat down in a chair beside my bed. "Harry, I would like to know what you were doing in that classroom. You were on your way back to Ravenclaw Tower, I believe."

I couldn't quite say I felt strong magic being emanated from the room. That would only make Dumbledore more curious than he already was. "I… I saw… when I was walking past, the door was open and I saw the mirror. I wanted to know what it was doing in there. Then Quirrell found me."

He nodded. "Please, tell me what happened."

"Well… I had a look at the mirror, and when it just showed me the mirror breaking, I said that I wasn't going to 'deactivate my wards just to be told something I already knew'. Then Quirrell turned up." Dumbledore nodded slowly. I was fortunate that Dumbledore would be unable to extract a memory from the pile of dust Quirrell had become.

"Then he tied me up and took my wand from me. After that, he started talking to himself about what the mirror was for – that it held a clue as to the location of the Holy Grail…" I paused, looking thoughtful. "It's still safe, right, sir?" At the same time, I felt about in my robes and felt a moment of panic when there _was_ no right robe pocket. Then I realised that I had been changed into a general hospital patient's robe. Folded neatly and lying on the seat of another chair were the clothes I had been wearing, all cleaned of the dust that must have been on them.

Dumbledore looked at me piercingly, then he sighed. "Quirrell hadn't been able to figure out how the Mirror of Erised worked when I arrived, right?"

"Is that what it's called? And no, he hadn't. Voldemort suggested I be used to have a look in the mirror, but all I saw was the mirror breaking again. Then he tried to kill me, and then you turned up."

Dumbledore nodded. "Then it is still safe. I will have the Mirror moved to a safer location." He paused. "The Mirror is called the Mirror of Erised, yes. Have you figured out what it does?"

I tilted my head to the side. "Well, it shows _me_ the mirror breaking, but I don't think that's right. The inscription – when read backwards, says 'I show you not your face but your heart's desire'. That's all it is, right? And Erised, that's 'desire' backwards, isn't it?"

Dumbledore nodded, a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. "That's correct, Harry." He looked at me curiously. "Do you know why it shows you the mirror breaking?"

I looked away from him. "I think it's got something to do with my Occlumency… and maybe because I don't want people telling me what I want. Even if it's a mirror."

"I see… the words of someone who knows how to look after themselves, yes. An independent person. You're an amazing child, Harry. Well!" Dumbledore pulled out his pocket watch, and Pomphrey came barging in.

"Your five minutes is up! Drink up, Mr. Potter." Wanting beyond anything else at that moment to escape from having to speak to Dumbledore, I drank first the green-blue potion and then the purple potion.

I sank into a deep sleep immediately.

When I woke, the sun had risen till it was about thirty degrees till noon – that is, if one drew a line from where the sun would be at noon to the earth so that it was perpendicular to the 'flat' surface of the Earth, the line from the same point on the Earth to where the sun was now would make an angle of thirty degrees to the noon line. Glancing at the clock on the hospital bedside table, I noted that it was half-past ten.

Already, I could feel my magic reserves rejuvenating at an incredible pace, and knew that last night's high jinks had probably pushed my magic levels to almost twice as high as before.

Someone approached the hospital privacy curtains around my bed – I could see their silhouette. They slowly, quietly swished the curtains open a little, and I saw it was Jeremy.

"Harry? You're awake?" He tiptoed in, and I sat up (this time without the help of the bed).

"Yeah, I am." I frowned at my 'bed breath'. Then I realised that if someone had changed my robes, they would have noticed that they couldn't remove my wristbands _or_ the two bracers attached to my arms. Then I remembered that the bracers were charmed to camouflage against my skin. Thankful for this small mercy that they hadn't been able to find my spare wand, I pulled out my primary wand and performed the Ablutions Charm to remedy my bad breath.

Jeremy meanwhile was pulling a chair to my side and didn't notice me pulling out my wand and performing some magic. "Well," he said as he sat down. "They made me stay in because of magical exhaustion. They'll make you do the same as well." He grinned. "Guess it's just like a pair of twins to go down with the same thing, huh?"

I smiled back at him. "Yeah, that's about right."

He suddenly seemed to realise something. "Hang on, I'll be right back." I nodded and he disappeared through the curtains, only to return laden down with a load of lollies.

"When everyone found out we were in the Hospital Wing, they all sent us these. Dumbledore told me that he's gone through all of them and made sure there aren't any… surprises."

I nodded, knowing he really meant that when everyone had found out _he_ was in the Hospital Wing. Then I noticed that on my bedside table was a small pile of presents that, quite obviously, hadn't been there last night.

Jeremy smiled. "I see you have your own pile – but I've got too many. You can have these too." He poked at the sweets. "You know how I'm not really all that partial to Sugar Quills, and you really like them, don't you?" I did, actually, and my chest seemed to tighten at the fact that he'd remembered.

"Thanks," I replied as I swept my presents onto the bed. There was a package from the boys in my dorm, one from the First Year Ravenclaw girls, one from the Prefects of Ravenclaw, one from Hermione, Ron and Neville, a big one from our parents (this one contained a few books from home that the letter said I had left bookmarks in and they had assumed I hadn't finished them, so if I had free time I could read them), and one from Draco Malfoy.

"_Malfoy?_" Jeremy grimaced. "Well, I suppose if Dumbledore's been through all of them, it can't hurt. But still…"

I shrugged. "Well, I'm going to his house in the holidays, remember, so if he asks, I have to able to know what was in his gift." Jeremy looked down, then he lunged forward and hugged me.

"Be careful," he murmured. "Please. We'll be really sad if the Malfoys take you away from us." Then he let go and stepped back awkwardly.

I nodded. "I will. I'll be so careful I'll make Mad-Eye Moody look naïve." He smirked, the both of us remembering how Moody yelled 'Constant Vigilance' at random moments.

Opening the packages, the ones from the Ravenclaws contained sweets and a novel in each package. The one from the Gryffindors contained a box of Chocolate Frogs and a smooth, round crystal light orb that wouldn't roll of its own accord. Draco's contained a rather hefty tome on Dark Creatures and how to fight them.

"Wow," muttered Jeremy. "He actually got you something that's really useful. Man, this makes him look _nice_."

"Well, maybe he is. It's just hidden beneath that act he's picked up from his parents." I suggested, and Jeremy nodded.

"Yeah, maybe. Else Dumbledore wouldn't agree with Snape on the idea of you befriending him. I guess… well, the son isn't the father, but sometimes…" He shrugged apologetically.

"Mm, sometimes. Well, what did Madam Pomphrey say we were allowed to do while in here?"

Jeremy shrugged again. "I don't think she'll let us duel or anything like that, but I'm sure we're allowed to eat sweets and read books." He looked at all the books everyone had sent me. "You know, you'd think everyone thought you'd be in the Hospital Wing for a month, not a few days."

"A _few days_!"

Jeremy chortled at my expression. "Yeah. Although she might let us out if we can prove – somehow, not quite sure how – if we can prove that we've recovered." He looked at me hopefully. "You have any ideas, oh wise Ravenclaw?"

"Dunno…" I muttered as I got up out of bed and stacked all of my presents and the sweets Jeremy hadn't wanted onto my bedside table again. "I haven't heard of anything that could help."

Jeremy smiled wryly. "Ah well… how about you tell me what happened last night after I… collapsed."

"You mean fainted."

"I didn't _faint_. _Girls_ faint!"

"Ah… so you… 'collapsed'."

"Yes, now get on with the story!"

I laughed at him, but then Dumbledore swept the curtains aside and entered.

"Professor! I'll leave now, then-"

"No, no, stay if you wish. I for one would also like to hear what happened last night. Do go on, Harry."

"Well… I was walking back to Ravenclaw Tower when…"

Half an hour later, I was finished with my story. Madam Pomphrey had come by with my next dose of the blue-green potion, and Dumbledore had returned to do whatever it is Headmasters do. Jeremy and I had started flipping through the books that had been sent to me and eating some of the candy.

"Hey, here it says that the Holy Grail can create food for sinless people, blind sinners and Silence disrespectful people… so why was Voldemort looking for it? Wouldn't it blind and Silence him?"

I smiled at Jeremy who was holding a copy of _The Legends of King Arthur_. "If you put water into the _real_ Holy Grail, the water can give eternal life or transmute things. The book you're holding, those are legends."

"Oh. I see." He closed the book and put it down. "Well, do you have any books here that talk about the _real_ Grail?"

I flipped through the ones our parents had sent, then pulled out one that talked about the legendary items of the Magical World. I'd bookmarked the page about the Sorting Hat, back when I had been doing research in preparation for my arrival at Hogwarts.

"This one should have something… Here." I pushed the hefty tome at him.

Five minutes later… "Hey, what happens if you've gotten eternal life but then you don't want it anymore? 'Cos here it says you can't be killed by mortal means."

I shrugged. "Dunno… maybe you have to summon a demon to crush you or something like that."

"Gods, that sounds horrible."

"It's meant to." I looked at him. "Why do you want to know so much about it? It's gone – hidden away. Dumbledore says it's safe."

Jeremy didn't look up from the book but I could see that he had stopped reading. "Well… I dunno. It's just that… that it sounds so incredible. And… I suppose for a little bit, I wanted to be able to use it. But reading about it, eternal life really does sound pretty overrated."

I smiled sadly. "Yeah, it does. Boring, really. And kinda sad, if the people around you start dying."

"Although I guess the transmutation thing's pretty cool." Jeremy seemed to shrink a little at this admission.

I smiled. Then the Hospital Wing doors banged open and I heard our parents' voices quite clearly. The curtains were torn aside and mother and father rushed in, hugging first Jeremy and then me.

"Professor Dumbledore sent us both owls as soon as he could telling us you were both awake. We tried to come earlier but…" Mother trailed off.

"…but things got a little hairy at the Ministry. Quirrell's turning into dust caused a big uproar there, and well…" Father shrugged. "The Minister wants to give you an Order of Merlin, Third Class, for dealing with a 'Dark Wizard'."

I frowned, but Mother answered my unspoken question. "The Minister doesn't believe that Voldemort is still alive, but he appreciates the fact that Quirrell really was a Dark Wizard and you stopped him before he got immortality and practically unstoppable power."

"What happens if… _when_ Voldemort really does come back? Is he going to deny everything?"

Mother and Father looked at each other. "Honey, do you really want to talk about this… so soon after you faced him?" At the same time as Mother said this, Father stroked his ear and looked at me pointedly. I took the hint.

"Actually… you're right, maybe not right now."

The conversation died there, then Jeremy sat up. "Mum, dad, do you think you could convince Madam Pomphrey to let us out a little earlier? Harry and I are going stir-crazy and it's only been the first few _hours_."

"Absolutely not." intoned Madam Pomphrey from the gap in the curtains. Mother and Father jumped then laughed nervously at their surprise.

"Why not, Poppy? The boys look perfectly fine – it's as if nothing had happened to them at all!" declared Father. Mother wasn't quite so sure but after she had a longer look at Jeremy and I, she nodded as well.

"They seem perfectly fine, Poppy." Mother agreed, and Father smiled proudly.

Pomphrey sighed. "Very well, seeing as _both_ parents have given permission, I suppose you can leave earlier-"

"Today? Now?" begged Jeremy. Pomphrey narrowed her eyes dangerously but she remembered that our parents were still there.

"Very well. Get changed and make sure you don't leave anything here!" She swept off, and I wondered just how lonely it must be, being all alone in the Hospital Wing with no-one to keep you company and everyone wanting to get out as soon as they could.

While I changed, Father conjured a bag, shrunk all my things and placed them into the bag, then cast a Feather-Weight Charm on the bag. "Here you go," he said, handing me the bag. Mother had gone off with Jeremy to help him with his rather mountainous pile of candy.

As we exited the Hospital Wing, I felt the comfortable weight of the shrunken Grail 'in' my pocket, as it bumped against my leg every so often.

We parted at the fourth floor landing. "Look after yourselves, boys!"

"We will!" Jeremy and I chorused.

"Well… see you later?"

I smiled. "See you." I replied.

Walking back to the Ravenclaw Tower, I paused before the mirror, then pressed on. Once inside, everyone stopped talking then gathered about me, asking questions about how I had known Quirrell was a Dark Wizard and how I had managed to kill him.

"Hey, hey! I just got out of the Hospital Wing – so I'll just answer _two_ of the questions. One, I hadn't known Quirrell was a Dark Wizard, I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or the right place, right time, depending on how you look at it. _Two_, I didn't kill him, he killed himself when Professor Dumbledore arrived. I guess he didn't want to go to Azkaban, or something like that." With that, I climbed up the stairs to my dorm and promptly fell onto my bed.

"Harry?" It was Terry. "It's complete bedlam out there! Everyone's trying to get in here, but thankfully the girls can't get up the stairs. Imagine if we were in another house – apparently the girls can go up the boys staircases but not the other way round. Anyway, the seventh years look like they're about to start hexing their way in here. What are we gonna do?"

I groaned. "Can't I get a _break_?"

"Sorry, Harry. Must be something to do with being a Potter."

I snorted. "Maybe. Well, tell them I need my beauty sleep."

Terry was scandalized. "You're telling me to risk my skin to tell them you're having a _nap_!"

"Why yes, Terry. Oh forget it, hang on." I stood up, opened the door and bellowed "I'M GOING TO HAVE A NAP RIGHT NOW!" Then I slammed the door shut and fell back down on my bed.

Outside, the chattering and yelling of gossip fell silent and we could hear the dejected Ravenclaws stumping away from our landing.

"Well, I guess _that_ works." commented Terry. Thomas laughed.

I rolled over on my bed to face them. "Thanks for your present." They nodded.

"Hey, why isn't school on today?"

"Dumbledore cancelled classes today because of what happened. We're short a teacher, although I hear Professor Dumbledore might teach DADA until he manages to get another professor."

"That'll be interesting… studying under the great wizard Dumbledore…" I murmured, then slowly descended into the comfort of sleep.

I dreamed of family, of hugs, of sweet candy, of people that cared.

Then I woke up and knew that a world as perfect as that could only ever exist in a dream.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Author's Notes: A longer chapter this time, tying up the Quirrell arc. Coming up next is the arc involving Malfoy Manor, and the beginnings of Harry's investigation into the meaning of the inscription on the Headmaster's door!

Notes:

1. A little bit of humour to start off the chapter, with Harry being mistaken for famous Jeremy.

2. Gravity Wristband – when he released the perceived gravity, Harry's body which was acclimatized to a 'heavier' world was suddenly moving in a world which didn't put as much stress on his body. As such, strength and speed were increased. His reaction times are still the same, but like canon Harry, he has good reflexes.

3. Quirrell's end – Voldemort sucked out Quirrell's life force to fuel his flight.

4. Robes – Madam Pomphrey used a spell to change him from his school robes into the hospital gown. No physical contact was made, and she didn't bother trying to remove the wristbands as they weren't harming him.

5. Parents sending a package but not arriving till later – Lily managed to grab a whole bunch of books, toss them into a package and send it to Harry, on top of her package to Jeremy. She then had to go join James at the Ministry.

Intermission story coming up, then the holidays and Malfoy Manor!


	8. 08 Preparation

**Desiring Other Times **

Chapter 8 - Preparation

Disclaimer: My English teacher told us a joke last week. It went like this: There once was a really bad zoo. There was only one animal. It was a dog. It was a Shih Tzu. (If you don't get it, read it out aloud). Now, I don't own that joke and I don't own Harry Potter.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

_Artists sing of how they would sacrifice anything to start again. Others sing of how inevitable everything is, like how gravity will continue to pull us back down to earth. If my life were to be turned into a story, into a song, it would tell of how I came from both something and nothing to become… somebody in my own right. _

_My name is Harry James Potter and this is my life. _

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"What are you going to do in the holidays, Jeremy?" Jeremy and I were in the library, along with Neville, Hermione, Ron, Terry and Thomas. Padma and Lisa were elsewhere in the library searching high and low for a copy of _Brashnard's Magical Legends_. Despite the name, the tome was actually filled with real magic spells, real charms, real potions. There were references, of course, to other 'legendary' items, including Brashnard's own 'Ultimate Sphere of Power', a rather remarkable sphere that could generate a shieldlike barrier for miles. No-one really knew where Brashnard's Sphere was anymore, but the other stories within the tome was certainly useful for their History of Magic essay.

"Well… Neville invited me to his house for the holidays, but I'm not sure…"

"Come on Jeremy, it'll be _fun_!" declared Ron, and I could see how Neville was beginning to regret inviting the lot of them, fearing for his home. Hermione, however, drew Neville's attention back to the Astronomy assignment she was helping him on.

"…and because Earth is moving closer to the perihelion, the planet Neptune will seem to be moving like _this_-" She drew a looping line on the map in erasable ink, and Neville blinked.

"But… but _how_…?" Extremely confused, he tried to listen attentively as Hermione explained again.

"Oh, come on, Jeremy! It's no fun staying at the school in the holidays." counselled Ron.

Jeremy shrugged, and Ron decided to give up. "So, Harry. How about you? You going anywhere these holidays?"

"You can come to my place if you want, Harry." said Neville, as he ran his finger along an unmarked path on the map. Hermione nodded, then shook her head and moved his finger back an inch or two.

"No, no, Neville. Remember it's not moving in a straight line – it has its own perihelion and aphelion." she admonished.

"Oh, I don't know." I replied. "I'm staying at the school – maybe explore a bit. This school's a lot larger than it seems, and maybe I'll find a hidden passageway the Weasley twins haven't…" Jeremy opened his mouth then shut it abruptly as he realised that telling these people I was going to the _Malfoys' _place for the holidays wasn't exactly the best of ideas.

"Are you sure?" Neville looked up from the map.

Thomas snorted. "More like he wants to read the whole library in his first semester here… How many of these books have you read already, Harry?"

I paused theatrically, tapping a finger against my chin. "Uh… not _that_ many of these books…"

Terry sniggered. "Only because you've got your _own_ copies of them." I mock glared at him, but then smiled.

"Yeah," I replied. "That sounds about right. But I might go home, if I'm allowed. How about you, Hermione? What are you doing these holidays?"

"Well…" she mumbled as she began drawing dotted lines across Neville's map. "Originally, I wanted to stay here, but my parents said they wanted me to come home so I could have my dental check-up."

"You're going home for a _dental check-up_." Thomas was incredulous.

"Oh!" She looked up apologetically. "No, that's not… no, they said they wanted to take me skiing as well."

"_That's_ more like it – you had me scared for a moment there… _Dental check-up_, honestly…" muttered Thomas, shaking his head.

"So, what about you two? Thomas? Terry?" She asked.

"Me?" Thomas pointed at himself, and Hermione nodded. "Well, I'm going home because my older brother's back in the country – he normally lives in the States, and we don't see him very often, you see…"

"Well, _I'm_ going to help my parents at work – they're Wizarding lawyers, you see, and there's plenty of work I can help with. Job experience will be cool, I reckon."

"Experience at stapling documents?" retorted Padma who had just returned. "Copying files? That sounds so… _boring_, don't you think?" Lisa grinned and nodded, gently piling a small stack of books on Terry's head.

"Hey! _Hey!_" cried Terry, but he was smiling anyway.

"Well, I'm going home with Parvati. Mum and dad need us home for my cousin's wedding – we're bridesmaids, you know."

"That sounds… interesting." said Ron. Of course, Padma had been waiting for someone to say 'Oh _wow_!', but eleven-year old boys weren't really interested in weddings, Hermione wasn't paying attention and Lisa already knew.

"Thanks a lot, _Weasley_." sniffed Padma.

"What? What'd I do?" Jeremy thwacked Ron lightly with his hand. "Hey!"

"How about you, Lisa? What're you doing these holidays?" Thomas turned to her, back to Ron.

"Me? I'm going home. Hogwarts will be so _cold_ during Christmas, I don't know how I'll stand it when we come back for second term."

"Is that all? You don't like the cold? Honestly, why are you even in _Britain_ if you don't like the cold?" chided Terry, and Lisa leaned down heavily on the books on his head in response. "Ouch! Gah, painful!"

"Say sorry!"

"Why should I? OW! Help me, don't sit there laughing!" He demanded of Thomas.

"Hush!" Madam Pince appeared at Lisa's shoulder. She stopped applying pressure to the pile of books and looked apologetic. "Sorry," she whispered.

"If you make anymore noise…" Madam Pince let the threat hang in the air unsaid.

We returned to work in quasi-silence. The others were working on their assignments, while I was drawing a replica of the door to Dumbledore's office.

"Wow, that looks so cool!" Whispered Terry as he peered at my rather detailed sketch.

"That's the door to Dumbledore's office, isn't it?" Jeremy leaned across the table to get a closer look. "Yeah, it is."

Thomas gaped at me. "You must have a _really_ good memory… hang on, since when have you been up in his office?"

"Remember Halloween? The troll? My parents came to visit, and we went up there."

"And you remembered the door from _one visit_…" Padma stared at me in awe.

I shrugged, and returned to carefully drawing in all the parts of the door. When I had first started, I hadn't thought there would be anything more to just remembering what the door looked like. But when I had started putting in all the decorations, I had realised that the design was causing magic to gather in the drawing. I was sure that when I had finished the entire drawing of the door save the inscription, the sketch would be practically bursting with magical energy that it had drawn from the surroundings. Just what exactly would happen when I also put in the inscription was beyond me, as I hadn't had the time to puzzle out what it meant.

_As the world turns, so does the Great Mandala. As the body ages, so does the temple to the Lords. As the Light grows, so does the Dark. The Balance is kept by those who understand. Enter, and be judged._

Remembering the inscription made me realise that the shape of the magic imprinting itself into the paper was in the shape of several concentric circular rings, that seemed to vibrate and shift a little as if they were fighting to spin about their diameters. Whatever the design on Dumbledore's door did should become clear when I finished my sketch.

Several hours passed and we all trooped down to the Great Hall for dinner, Terry, Thomas, Lisa, Padma and I to the Ravenclaw table, Jeremy, Ron, Hermione and Neville to the Gryffindor table.

"You know, I'm really going to miss the food during the holidays…"

"Me too."

"Hey, you know how to get into the kitchens, right?"

"No, actually."

"Well, I'll show you sometime. You can stock up on some of their fare before going home."

The chatter of the students about me lulled me into a comfortable mood, and I ate slowly. As I was tucking into some meat and potato stew, Mittere flew in and landed gracefully on the table.

"Thanks, Mittere." I sliced off a chunk of steak and cut it into smaller cubes. While Mittere gobbled at the meat, I opened the letter attached to the small parcel.

_Harry Potter, _

_Enclosed is a Portkey to my home. Password is Purus Masca. I'll see you at Malfoy Manor. _

_Lucius Malfoy_

Wow. To receive a 'gift' from Lucius Malfoy himself. I burned the letter and carefully unwrapped the parcel, taking care not to actually touch the Portkey. Inside was what seemed to be a miniature model of a large mansion, quite possibly Malfoy Manor itself. Pointing my wand at it, I cast a few spells to check if there was anything illicit about it, but it seemed Lucius didn't want to risk straining relationships with the Potters any more than they already were.

"What is it?" Terry reached over to pick up the little statuette, but I quickly swiped it out of his reach and tucked it into a pocket.

"A gift from a friend – a pen pal. I told him I wanted to see what his house looked like, but I thought he was only going to send me a photo. Guess he decided to send me a _model_." I smiled incredulously and Terry laughed.

The second last week of term came and went (with the students of Hogwarts doing a mad rush for the library to finish their end of term assignments), and I was back in the Room of Requirement, sketch of the door in hand.

I had written in most of the inscription, and was pausing for an inordinate amount of time, debating whether or not to write that last word in.

_J. U. D. G. E. D. Full stop._

And the piece of paper floated up till it was three feet up in the air, magic swirling madly about it. I had already stepped back and my primary wand was out.

Then the paper vaporised and the rings of magic were left, all of them spinning madly about their diameters so that it was actually a lot of hollow spheres of magic, a smaller one inside each, like Russian Dolls. Stepping forward, wand in hand, I took a closer look at the sphere. The outermost sphere was red, but if I peered in, I could see the next layer, which was orange, then next (yellow), then the next which was green, and the next which was blue and the next which was indigo, and the seventh and last one… which was violet.

"The colours of the rainbow…" I murmured, stretching a hand out to bring it close to the sphere. The sphere(s) reminded me of my mental defences – there were seven circles in my mind. I played about with the sphere by concentrating on a certain layer, and the other layers outside of it seemed to go transparent, as if they weren't even there.

"If you know it's there, then you can see it." I muttered, and brought a finger to the surface of the red sphere. Closer, closer, and contact was made. Strangely enough, I couldn't push my finger past the red surface – it was actually solid, and I realised that where before there had been rotating rings of magic, there were now actual spheres. Cupping the sphere (which was about the size of an Olympic handball) in my left hand, I experimented to see if it was still supporting itself by alternatively lifting and dropping my hand. If I dropped it, it stayed at the height of approximately three feet – if I lifted my hand then dropped my hand away, it would bob back down to the three foot height.

The door opened and Snape and Dumbledore came in. I leapt to the side in shock, putting the sphere between me and the professors.

"This is certainly interesting, Mr. Potter. What on earth is it?" Dumbledore paced about the floating sphere, and Snape trailed behind him curiously.

"It's…" I paused. "I made a copy, a sketch, of your door. And this… well, when I finished it, this happened."

Snape shook his head disapprovingly. "And what would have happened if it had turned out to be a portal to the demon world? Idiot boy…" He muttered half-heartedly, as even he knew the Headmaster's door wouldn't really be a design for a portal to Hell. However, the idea was there.

"I wonder…" Dumbledore murmured, tapping at the sphere with his wand – to my surprise, the tip of his wand went through the sphere as if there was nothing there. "Brashnard's Sphere was solid, even to a magical focus such as a wand. This," He gestured at the sphere. "While it resembles the sphere somewhat, seems to be something different." Dumbledore peered intently at the sphere. "I cannot seem to see any other layers – Severus?" Snape shook his head, and they both looked at me.

"Can you, Harry? Can you see layers within the first?" This revelation surprised me – maybe the defences of my mind really did resemble the sphere! Only I knew the circles were there, only I could get in.

I swallowed, then nodded. "I can. It's… they're in the colours of the rainbow."

Dumbledore's eyes widened, Snape openly gaped. "The colours of the_ rainbow_!" Snape looked at me, expecting an answer. I nodded.

The Headmaster continued to prod at the sphere, this time with his fingers. "That's… that is truly amazing, Harry. A magical object that has all the colours of the seven types of magic, all unsullied by corruption or the other types…" He turned to regard me. "I had no idea the design on my door could be for something as amazing as this, but if anyone were to have a mind brilliant enough to design this… then the Founders are certainly on the top of that list. Perhaps…" He trailed off, conjured a chair with his wand then put his wand away. Putting his right index finger on the sphere, he concentrated on the chair.

And it exploded into tiny, tiny pieces that floated about like dust.

"A… amazing!" Snape managed to make out. Dumbledore turned to regard me.

"Yes, simply amazing." He agreed. "It seems Harry has managed to produce one of the most efficient magical foci in history. And just from a design on my door."

Snape was getting excited. "Would there be other designs in the school that… that hide such incredible… such incredible mysteries, Albus?" Dumbledore looked thoughtful.

"There just might be. Perhaps, Harry," He turned to look at me. "Perhaps when you come back from Malfoy Manor, we shall have a search through the school for anything the Founders may have left behind." Dumbledore looked at the sphere, seemed to be fighting some sort of internal struggle.

I stretched out a hand towards it, and it bobbed gently towards me. "So it recognises its maker…" He muttered, and he reached to touch it again, when it zapped him.

"Albus?" Snape hurried to Dumbledore's side, concern evident in his voice, if not his expression.

"I… it is rather temperamental…" Dumbledore gazed warily at the sphere.

"Can you _un_-make this?" He regarded me sternly. I looked at him, then shrugged.

"I don't know. I have no idea."

"Then I guess we'll have to take that into custody-" Just as said those words and lifted his wands, the sphere cast up a shield between us. Blinking surprisedly, he lowered his wand then put it away. The shield dissipated.

"It seems that the sphere doesn't want to be taken." Dumbledore frowned. "Harry, perhaps you could put it into a box…?" He conjured a box with a lid.

I nodded, took the box and tried to push the sphere into the box. It wouldn't move, and actually bobbed away if I moved the box.

Dumbledore sighed. "Okay, Harry, we're going to have to try and have you lead it to my office." With that, I plucked the sphere out of the air and followed them to the Headmaster's office.

"Leave it on my desk, Harry." I placed it on the desk, and it bobbed up a little so that it was three feet from the ground, if only a few inches from the surface of the desk.

"That should do it…" I backed away slowly, but when I was about five metres from the sphere, it suddenly shot towards me.

Dumbledore and Snape seemed on the verge of groaning. "Just like a Potter to put us in a situation like this…" Snape muttered venomously.

"Harry, I do believe that it doesn't appreciate being left behind…" We tried several more ways of trying to keep the sphere away from me, but it seemed that no amount of magic would convince the sphere to be left in the hands of anyone other than myself.

"It seems I'm going to have to trust you with this, Harry." Dumbledore gazed sternly at me. "Can I? Can I trust you to ensure that it is kept safe?"

I hesitated, then nodded slowly, confidently. "Be careful, Mr. Potter. The magic you hold in your hands could quite possibly level all of Hogwarts if you make a mistake." I paled, knowing he had meant to say that it could destroy much more than just a castle.

"I'll be careful. Very careful."

"Very well, Mr. Potter." He gazed at the sphere, then spoke up again. "I suppose that is enough excitement for one day, Harry. Perhaps you should return to Ravenclaw Tower before the curfew. Severus?" Snape escorted me out and back to Ravenclaw tower.

When I returned to Ravenclaw Tower, Fawkes was waiting for me, a scroll in his claws.

_Harry, _

_Over time, the Wizarding World has forgotten which of the colours of the rainbow correspond to which type of magic. If you have the time to experiment (do be careful), remember that the seven magics are: Attack, Defence, Soul, Time, Transmutation, Space and Enchantment. Mind magics fall under the Soul category, while Transfiguration is a branch of Transmutation. _

_Albus Dumbledore_

I grabbed a sheet of parchment, scribbled a message of thanks on it, then gave it to the waiting Fawkes. "Thanks, Fawkes." He piped a few notes then disappeared in a burst of flames.

Within the safety of the chamber in my trunk, I experimented with the sphere. If I concentrated on a certain layer (and now I knew I was concentrating on a certain type of magic), some spells would work better or worse. Eventually, I had figured out the most efficient sphere to use for easy spells like the Stunner and the Disarming Hex.

That night, I fell asleep and dreamed about being encased in a sphere and falling, falling, falling into the deep seas, where I encountered strange kinds of sea creatures.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Author's Notes:-

1. Brashnard and Brashnard's Ultimate Sphere of Power are from "Majesty: the Fantasy Kingdom Sim", a game I have been playing recently. The book is something I made up.

2. Holidays – In canon, Ron's parents are going to Romania to visit Charlie, and hence Ron and his brothers all stayed at Hogwarts. In this AU, Neville has been befriended and so he's invited the lot of them. The way Rowling writes about the holidays makes it seem like almost everyone goes home for the holidays.

3. The Sphere – an interesting artefact that won't always belong to Harry.

Next, the visit to Malfoy Manor!


	9. 09 Infection

**Desiring Other Times **

Chapter 9 – Infection

Disclaimer: What has two legs, two arms, a head and owns Harry Potter? Joanne Kathleen Rowling, of course! Does my name look like J. K. Rowling? NO!

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

_They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. If my parents had ever wished for me to love them, then all they had to do was send me away for long periods of time, rather than have me living with them for years on end. In my time at Hogwarts, my displeasure with them has waned – it all seems so childish now – and I've only been here a term. _

_My brother?__ Well, I might seem him at breakfast, at lunch, at dinner, sometimes in the library, but we hardly ever have to talk to each other these days. It's like he lives on the other side of the world, and the few occasions I have been in his presence for extended periods of time have hardly degraded my opinion of him. Sometimes, at the most inopportune of moments, I find myself thinking of him with familial fondness. _

_Sometimes, I think I might just love my family. _

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Mr. Potter. I've heard so much about you. Nothing terrible, of course." Lucius Malfoy extended a hand and I shook it. He smiled even wider at my firm, confident handshake, as if I had proven myself capable of being something more than a mindless sidekick for his son.

"Welcome to Malfoy Manor. Draco assures me that he will ensure you enjoy your time here." He looked at Draco pointedly, who momentarily seemed a little panicked but then a confident cocksure expression plastered itself to his face.

"Certainly, Father. Guests of the Malfoy family never leave unsatisfied." They looked at each other in the eyes for a few moments, like a battle of the wills.

Lucius smiled. "Dobby!" A house-elf with large floppy bat-like ears and bulging eyes appeared with a _crack_. "Take Mr. Potter's luggage to his room." Lucius ordered, and Dobby bobbed, grasped my trunk and disappeared away with it. I noted that Dobby's fingers were bandaged, as was other parts of his body beneath the pillowcase he wore.

"My house-elf," Malfoy senior explained rather redundantly. "If he ever gives you trouble, send him to me." I nodded absentmindedly as I gazed at the rather extensive property. Off in the distance, I could see some servants trimming the hedge.

"Come, let me show you your room." Malfoy senior led Draco and I into the mansion, up several flights of stairs until we reached the second to last landing, with five floors below us, seven floors in total. He led us down the left-hand side corridor. "This," He gestured at a door that had a plaque with 'Draco' engraved on it. "Is Draco's room." Malfoy senior then pointed to the door directly opposite it. "This will be your room."

I smiled at the plaque on my door with 'Harry Potter' written on it. It was a nice touch, and I knew that the Malfoy family wouldn't stop there at impressing me. Pushing the door open, I realised it wasn't a room: it was an apartment. Immediately through the door was a round table with several chairs about, and several shelves of books lined the walls. Opposite the door from where I had entered was another one, which opened up onto a very large bedroom. One entire wall of the bedroom was a giant window that looked over the Malfoy property. To the left (if you had just gone through either the entrance to my apartment or to the bedroom) was a door in both the bedroom and the first room, which opened onto the bathroom. There was a rather expansive shower, a giant bath which looked more like a pool and was lined at the edges with many taps that were labelled things like 'Rose Petals' and 'Red Bubble Bath', a toilet, a spray sink and a large mirror.

"I hope you find it to your liking, Mr. Potter." Malfoy senior paused. "May I call you Harry?" I nodded.

"Well, Harry, it's almost ten. Perhaps Draco would like to show you about?" Draco nodded. "I'm afraid I must take my leave – there are some affairs I must deal with." With that, he swept out, leaving Draco and I behind in the small library they had turned the vestibule of my apartment into.

"I'll show you our Dining Room, first." Draco led me downstairs, then he took me to the Duelling Chamber, then the Library, then the Quidditch Pitch out the back. Privately I wondered what all the other rooms were for – it seemed like a waste of space to not have anything in them.

"This whole floor is our storeroom for Potions ingredients. The floor below has Rune Chambers, Potions laboratories and a room for meditation." He looked at me expectantly.

"You know, you could probably open an Academy here and you probably wouldn't notice the extra people." I joked, and Draco grinned.

"I've thought that before, and once I asked Father if we could do that, then I wouldn't even have to go to Hogwarts." He shrugged. "But Father and Mother aren't home all the time, and he said that he didn't like the idea of complete strangers running about the place."

I blinked, wondering why Malfoy senior had allowed for me to be here. Perhaps it was because I was a Potter and hence had connections in high places to people that were on the 'Light Side'.

"Well! Do you want to play a game of Quidditch? We can invite some friends over so we have enough players."

I nodded. "Sure, why not. None of my friends play Quidditch much, though, and Jeremy's currently… busy." Draco smiled, probably relieved that I hadn't insisted on inviting my brother.

"That's ok, I'll just make a few Floo calls. You remember the way to the Pitch, right? The broom shed's off to the side – I'll meet you there."

I nodded, then walked off as he went to call up his friends. Once down at the Pitch, I entered the broom shed and perused through the many brooms. Five minutes later, Draco came in, pulled down two Nimbus Two Thousands and handed me one. Outside stood Marcus Flint (the Chaser and captain of the Slytherin team), Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Adrian Pucey (another Chaser on the Slytherin team), Kent Bletchley (Keeper), Terrance Warrington (another Slytherin Chaser), Martin Montague (a Beater who sometimes played reserve Chaser) and Blaise Zabini.

"We'll play five a side, with one Beater, one Seeker, two Chasers and a Keeper. What positions do you want to play?"

Vincent and Gregory were to play as Beaters. Marcus, Adrian, Terrance and Martin volunteered to play as Chasers, while Kent and Blaise agreed to play as Keepers. "Well, that leaves Harry and I to play as Seekers." Draco looked at all of us. "Okay, Crabbe, Flint, Montague, Bletchley and I will be on one team. Goyle, Pucey, Warrington, Zabini and Potter on the other."

We zoomed off, and I revelled in the freedom of flying, eyes already searching for a glint of gold. Draco was swooping in and out between the players, doing his utmost best to be in the way of the Chasers on my team. Vincent and Gregory spent their time hitting the Bludgers at each other, occasionally managing to send a Bludger out to attack.

Warrington and Pucey swerved out of the way of Malfoy, and made to shoot for the goals, but Bletchley managed to catch the Quaffle at the tips of his fingers. In one particularly sharp swoop, I spotted the winged golden ball flitting about Draco's team's goalposts. Unfortunately, Draco was closer, much closer, and I couldn't risk racing for it. Slowly, carefully, I swooped closer to his side of the Pitch, glancing every now and again to make sure the Snitch was still there.

When I decided I was close enough, I broke into a dive, and Draco hurriedly chased after me. Wrapping a little magic about me, I smoothed my descent and stretched a hand out almost carelessly to swipe the gold ball out of the air.

We landed, and Draco congratulated me for a good game. Flint thumped me hard on the back (I do believe he was intending to incapacitate me before I managed to get on the Ravenclaw team), and we began play again. And again. Every few games or so, we would rotate positions, and I found that a Seeker's narrow concentration on the Snitch wasn't exactly a good idea for a Chaser, as I unintentionally fouled the other team a lot of times. Being a Beater was also hard, but certainly less daunting than playing as a Keeper. I could only imagine how scary it would be to have _three_ players closing in on you, and trying to guess which goal they were going for.

Noon rolled round and Draco took us inside for lunch. Several varieties of fresh salads and club sandwiches, an extensive range of beverages as well as a large mango pudding were laid out on the Dining Table. Apparently, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were eating out. Digging into the food, we chatted about what we were going to do for the rest of the holidays. Eventually, Vincent and Gregory went home, as did Adrian and Terrance. The only ones left (apart from Draco and I) were Marcus, Martin, Kent and Blaise.

Marcus glanced at me. "You trust him, Draco?" Draco nodded.

"Of course. I was interested in Harry before, but it was really Snape who suggested I try and befriend you. And you know Snape – he can read minds and all, so I'm sure if we can trust Snape…" I was surprised that Snape had told his students that he knew Legilimency. Or perhaps he had only said he could read minds?

The others grinned in an almost feral manner. "Of course. Well. As you might have guessed, almost all of us are the sons of people who were suspected to be Death Eaters. Whether or not our parents were followers of Voldemort is neither here nor there – what _we_-" Marcus swept his hand at the others. "-do is learn things that might not be so… legitimate. I think that the rest of us here should agree with me in that considering Snape _and_ Draco vouch for you, that we'd like to invite you into our little… clique." The others nodded, and Marcus looked at me expectantly.

"I think it would be quite interesting – so yes, I _would_ like to join." I added.

They smiled. "Excellent! Well, looks like it's full steam ahead with the plan, right, Draco?" Flint turned to look at Draco, who smirked.

"Of course. But perhaps we should ascertain just how much Harry here already knows about what the Wizarding World calls the 'Dark Arts'." His tone turned disgusted as he finished his sentence.

I shrugged, starting to feel like I was walking in a dream, as everything seemed so unreal. Like standing on the edge of a precipice and contemplating jumping. "I haven't actually cast any of those spells or made those potions or anything like that… but I do know the general theory behind them." They seemed a little disappointed that I had little experience with it, but as the Muggle saying goes 'You can't have you cake and eat it'.

"That's ok. Well, this holiday, we planned, that if you said 'yes', that we would be doing something less 'illegal'." Draco paused for dramatic effect. "We're going to become Animagi!"

My eyes widened – I truly hadn't gotten around to brewing that second potion… "That'd be _awesome_!"

"So I assume you haven't started?"

"Well… I've taken the one that checks to see if you can become one…"

The others smiled in a way that almost seemed… proud? "That's the way! Well? Are you?"

I nodded. "Excellent – well if anything, this really does prove that you're meant for our little club, Harry." said Blaise, as we were led by Draco to one of the Potions Laboratories.

"I had Dobby brew the Revealer-Unlocker while we were at school, and it should be ready." Draco said over his shoulder, pushing open the door.

Inside, a silver cauldron hung from the ceiling above a fire that roared bright blue. Every so often, the yellow-orange potion would give off a silvery mist that clung to the surrounding surfaces before fading. A small table sat next to the wall opposite the door, with six crystalline cups and a silver ladle sitting on it.

"Well, the books say we take the potion and then we fall into a sort of trance – Father provided the mats for us." On the left side of the room were several royal blue mats that were actually softer than they looked. "Depending on how good you are at meditating, the trance can last for…" Draco flipped open a book, paged through it then found the passage he was looking for. "Shortest time was half an hour, longest has been a week and a half." He looked at each of us in turn. "I for one hope it'll only take a day or so."

We each filled a cup with some of the potion, sat on the mats and raised the cups as if to make a toast. "Cheers," Blaise muttered, and at the same time, we knocked back the potion.

I blinked, and when my eyes opened, I was standing on seemingly thin air that seemed at the same time like grey mist and nothingness. Before me was a giant red sphere – I recognised it as a rather large version of my own magic sphere, and if that was the case, the sphere before me represented my Occluded mind.

Stepping forward (somehow), I reached forward to the sphere, and unlike the real magic sphere I owned, it rippled and parted slightly, allowing me entrance. Moving forward again, I was thrown into the first circle of my mind. Memories (rectangular prism-like boxes) and thoughts (little football like things) floated about, and it wasn't long before I made it to the orange sphere.

Reaching out again, I was surprised when it didn't allow me entry. Focussing on what little I knew of the sphere, I imagined the magical sphere and the process of focussing on a different layer – specifically, trying to remember what it felt like to see through the second layer to the third, yellow layer. And just like that, the second sphere parted a little and I moved through again.

Here, the memories weren't moving about quite so much as they had been in first circle, but the thoughts speeded up a little, and a few emotions joined the mix (far-off glowing lights, like stars). I made my way through the second circle, then the third, and the fourth, and so on and so forth until I was past the violet barrier and in the last circle.

There, memories piled high (along with the Flitwick Files), the emotions became glaring suns, and the thoughts whizzed about so fast they fairly bounced off each other.

Another me stood in the centre admiring it all. He turned when I walked towards him.

"Hello, it's nice to finally meet you." He greeted politely.

"Aren't you supposed to be in my Animagus form?" I asked, confused. The other me ignored my rudeness.

"I _am_ in the form."

"You mean I have the power to turn into myself?" I asked dryly, unamused.

The other me laughed. And I noticed his teeth. "My form's a _vampire_?" I asked, incredulous. "You mean I'm going to be sensitive to the sun, never eat garlic again and never be able to go to church?"

"Did you ever go to church in the first place, Harry?" He asked cheerfully. "And actually, vampires aren't sensitive to the sun, or allergic to garlic, holy water, the name of a god, crosses, all that jazz. We have reflections, and we don't have to be pale if we don't want to be. Sure, we still die if someone chops our head off or stakes us in the heart, but doesn't everyone?"

I frowned. "But…"

"Bad news – we're allergic to air."

"WHAT!"

"Just kidding."

"Good! You had me scared there for a second!"

"But the species of vampire I am means you're allergic to anyone you're not going to ever consider as prey."

A pause, then… "You mean the only people I'll ever be able to physically stand are people I'll take blood from or kill…?"

"That's right."

"Good gods… Kill me now…" I muttered, half-serious. "But… a lot of the students at Hogwarts say vampires…"

"Even Wizarding children are subject to the myths about… 'Dark Creatures'. It's not like we even _need_ to drink human blood – vampires can live on medium rare steaks, you know." The other me joked.

"So… are any of those _other_ things true? Like flight and super-strength and speed and incredible healing and…" I paused.

"Don't you already have those things – well, apart from the flight – with those wristbands of yours? Or were they merely activating a latent talent in you? Or both?" The other me replied. "You're not quite sure, are you? But anyway, I'll answer your question… yes, we have increased strength, speed and healing rates. Flight is a little harder. That is, not all vampires can do it. And while _I_ can fly, I'm just a representation of your form. You'll just have to try and see." The other me paused. "What else? Ah, teleportation, superior vision, increased senses, the ability to better remove the nutrients from your food – that's how we can get stronger by drinking blood, you know – some talent in the mind magics and wandless magic… well, honestly, the only two things you might possibly be gifted with that you couldn't already do already or with help from the wards like the ones on your wristbands are flight and teleportation. And those are pretty big ifs, it's not definite you'll be able to achieve those skills."

Vampire Harry paused again, and I remembered another 'myth' I had heard about vampires. "What about the ability to use shadows? Like making them solid or travelling in them? And immortality?"

The other me blinked. "Oh yes, there's that too… but I'm not quite sure if you can use shadows even if you're in your Animagus form. I mean, _I_ have trouble enough doing it. And immortality is stupid – we're not, we just live longer because our bodies can heal faster and better. Well, let's go through the ones that will most likely cross over to when you're in human form… hmm… strength, speed, healing ability, mind magics, enhanced senses, better metabolism… yeah, that's about it." I was stunned.

"What?" asked Vampire Harry. "You could've gotten most of those even if your form was something as mundane as a wolf! Okay, so maybe the mind magic and healing abilities might not happen, but still, that's a majority of them that are completely and utterly common in Animagi."

Vampire Harry paused, looked off into the distance for a bit then looked back at me. "It's time to go back. I'll see you again, Harry."

I nodded, but then something seemed to tug at me, pulling me out all the spheres until I was in the grey mist, and then…

"Harry? You're awake!" I opened my eyes blearily, and was greeted with Draco's face.

"Awesome," he crowed. "We're the only one's that are awake." I looked about and saw the others still lying prone on the mats, the crystal glasses back on the table. "Oh, Dobby came in and put them back." said Draco when he realised where I was looking. He peered at me curiously. "So, what's your form? I'm a pit viper – a bushmaster."

I looked at him, a little curious. "A bushmaster? How did you know?" At that, Draco smiled a little evilly. Meanwhile, I wondered why I wasn't breaking out in hives. Was I already considering Draco prey?

"Not many people have snakes as an Animagus form, Harry. And those that do… learn how to speak Parseltongue." My eyes widened, and I remembered how every time I encountered snakes, I always seemed to hear voices, hissing, spitting voices. Was I… was I a Parseltongue as well? How could that have happened?

"Well? What's your form? Wait, let me guess!" He stared at me for a bit. "A… hawk?" I shook my head. "A raven?"

I laughed. "Just because your form is your House emblem doesn't mean my form is as well! Try again, Draco."

"Is it a bird of any form, then?" I shook my head.

"Something with wings?" Shake, shake.

"Um…" Draco sat in his 'thinking' position, where he crossed his arms and looked upwards. "Does it have legs?" I nodded. "Arms?" I nodded again, and he seemed surprised. "So it's humanoid…" he muttered. "A monkey?"

"Nup."

"A gorilla."

"Sorry, but wrong."

"An orang-utan."

"Wow, Draco, I didn't know you knew so many kinds of primates. But no."

"Shut up. A chimpanzee?"

"Sorry."

"A baboon."

"Nuh-uh."

Draco was getting annoyed. "Then what the hell is it?"

I grinned at him. "Well, you'll just have to wait and see!"

"_Har_ry!"

"Sorry, but it really is a surprise."

"Fine." huffed Draco, but then he grinned. "You know, now I'm _really_ interested in what your form is." Then something occurred to him. "You're not a magical Animagus are you? Hang on, what happened when you took the first potion? Did you get dizzy or did you… faint?" He asked, barely controlling his excitement.

I smiled widely. "I'm a magical Animagus." I allowed.

Draco's eyes widened. "That's _amazing_, Harry! Humanoid… magical…" He muttered, then suddenly looked at me, quite pale.

"A fairy?" I laughed out loud at him.

"A… zombie?"

"No!" I laughed incredulously. "But close. Kind of. Zombies are far too dumb and slow for _me_."

"You're a _vampire_!" Draco hissed, awestruck. I chuckled at his expression. "Well, aren't you? Tell me, goddammit!"

Taking pity on him, I nodded. "Merlin… that's…" His expression turned wicked. "Imagine what the Ministry will say if you register…" We laughed, but then Blaise started to stir.

"Shut _up_! I have a bloody headache and…" He groaned, sitting up clumsily, one hand clutching his head.

Draco went outside, called for Dobby (I could hear him through the thick door, thanks to my newly awakened – or realised – hearing), then came back in half a minute later. "Here," he held out a small vial. "This'll help with your headache." Blaise nodded and thanked Draco, then slugged the drink back.

"Ah… that feels so much better." He shook his head a little, then put the vial on the ground. "Well, turns out I'm a bloody _macaw_." He muttered, a little disappointed.

"Who cares? At least you _have_ a form _and_ it can fly!" I said, trying to make him feel less dissatisfied.

Draco turned to look at me with a rather devious look. "How about _you_, Harry? Can't _your _form fly?"

I glared at him while Blaise asked us what our forms were. "Maybe. I'm not sure. It told me I might not be able to, but it's a possibility."

"What?" Blaise was confused. "Either you can fly or you can't."

Draco smirked. "Oh, but Harry's form is a _special case_. And I'm a viper." He added, and Blaise nodded approvingly, saying something about the added bonus of being able to speak Parseltongue, which sure beat his form which had no such side-bonus.

"So, what's your form, Harry? Special case…" Blaise's eyes narrowed. "You've gotten yourself a magical form, _haven't _you?"

I sighed mournfully – at the rate this was going, _everyone_ would know what my form was. "It's a vampire."

Blaise blinked. Then his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. "A… a… a _vampire_!" He shrieked, clapping his hands to his neck.

Draco and I laughed. "Relax… I'm not going to bite you. Hard." Blaise paled even more.

I turned to look at Draco, then back at Blaise again. "We're going to make everyone take a Secret Oath, right? It wouldn't do if one of us… sleeptalks or something like that."

Draco nodded. "Of course. And you'll have to make one about this group as well."

"No problem with that." While I might have been there to spy on Draco and his family (or so Dumbledore had sent me to do), there was definitely no way I was going to tell them just what I had learned while there. This only gave me an extra reason not to.

Blaise turned to Draco. "We'll all have to make new oaths to include Harry, right?" Draco nodded.

Eventually, over the next week, everyone woke up (Marcus was last, and he wasn't exactly happy that the youngest had woken up first while he, the oldest, had woken up last). Marcus' form was, even more embarrassingly, a cockroach, although we tried our best to reassure him that cockroaches were one of the most hardy of creatures in the world and that people speculated that they were the only creatures that would survive past the Apocalypse. Martin's form was that of a great hammerhead shark. Kent was the only other magical Animagus (although Draco's Parseltongue ability also technically counted), with his form being a Hinkypunk.

"…and I can breathe underwater – isn't that cool?" bragged Kent, while Draco and Blaise merely smirked knowingly at Kent. A vampire could hold its breath for extremely long periods of time – the healing factor took care of that. When we finally told Kent what my form was, he almost fainted… wait, I take that back. He almost 'collapsed'. The only interesting thing was that my 'allergy' didn't seem be happening.

About ten minutes (and several Secret Oaths) later, we were sitting on the mats again, this time trying to achieve our transformations. During the week, those of us that had awoken earlier had already begun to work on this. Kent and Martin were lying on mats floating on separate tanks, with the mats charmed to let them fall through if their weight changed suddenly.

I was back in the seventh circle again.

"Welcome back, Harry." greeted Vampire Harry.

"Hey."

"So you're trying once again, huh?"

"I'd be quicker if you'd give me a hint."

Vampire Harry grinned. "Well, you didn't really know much about vampires when you first came in here… are you _sure_ you know what it's like to be a vampire?"

I shrugged. "I found a couple of books in Draco's library. They were… enlightening, to say the least."

"I know."

"Then why bother asking! Help me, goddammit!"

Vampire Harry sighed. "As I said the first time we met, a lot of the things my form 'gifted' to you, you could already do. Humans and vampires really aren't all that different. The biggest difference, that makes us know that drinking blood is good for our health, that makes us capable of using more of our body's physical capacity… the biggest difference, Harry, is instinct."

I stared at him. "That's _it_? Instinct?"

"Hey, don't look down on good old instinct! It's instinct that keeps _you_ breathing when you sleep, remember!"

I frowned, thinking about this newest revelation. Instinct… What would it be like to chase prey, hunting for its blood? To be able to fling myself off a tower and know that I could catch myself? To be able to melt into the shadows and strangle an unwitting victim?

Vampire Harry smiled toothily (I don't there's any other way for a vampire to smile, really). "You're getting there, Harry. Good work."

I looked at him, and then I blinked, and I was no longer in my head.

In the real world, I could _feel_ the difference, even though I hadn't moved an inch. I stood up, marvelling at the sheer grace of my movements, at the comfortable pressure my elongated eye teeth made against the inside of my mouth. Flexing my hands, I held one hand out, palm up, and concentrated. A globe of light appeared almost immediately, without me having to even focus like I used to have to. Even when my improved wandless ability had started to show itself (it was still getting better), it hadn't become this easy. Yet.

Everyone else still had their eyes closed, so I reverted back to my human form, sat down, and started again, this time trying to transform without having to go into the world of my mind.

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Author's Notes:- I've been planning for Harry to turn into a vampire for a very long time. Doesn't it seem a little amusing that a bathroom in the Malfoy house has Bubble Bath? I was going through the Harry Potter books and I realised that… there are four chasers in Slytherin. So I made one of them into a Beater that occasionally played as a Chaser. And the whole special clique thing, wouldn't you do it if you could?

1. The mats – so when they wake up they won't be so damn sore from lying on stone.

2. Vampires – like ordinary humans except they have the ability to use more of the body's physical capability so speed and strength are improved (apparently, the human mind puts limits on the body so that you only use up to 20 percent of its potential, so even a weakling could lift a hundred kilograms if they limits were removed), heal faster, better senses, teleportation, flight, ability to manipulate and travel through shadows, a better metabolism that enables them to strip all sorts of things from food (including and not limited to magic), and since the Vampire is a magical creature that is based on humans, mind and wandless magic are improved. The other forms of magic aren't improved else that would be overkill. Other limits imposed upon humans by the mind may also be able to be stretched/broken.

3. Allergy – Allergic to people that aren't prey? It's just so interesting!

4. Draco – what do you know, we have another Parseltongue! I made it so that snake forms are rare, and those that get them technically have a magical form due to the Parseltongue gift. I'm debating on whether or not to have Parsel Magic.

5. Instinct – I borrowed this from Bleach, where the protagonist has to subdue his 'inner demon' so he doesn't go insane. Plus the added bonus of being able to borrow its powers.

Coming up next, Harry manages to get the hang of turning into a vampire, and Draco gets drunk? Okay, so maybe becoming a vampire with all those side-effects is way too over-powered. Trust me when I say I have a major twist coming up that will render almost all that has happened in the last few chapters (and a few more) practically useless to Harry.


	10. 10 Reluctance

**Desiring Other Times **

Chapter 10 – Reluctance

Disclaimer: _Harrius Potterus_ – a species that numbers theoretically seven, but only six have been found and tagged. The final animal has yet to be located. I do not own any of these creatures.

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_Somehow, I keep thinking that things are moving too fast. That maybe if I hadn't been so well-read, so knowledgeable, I wouldn't have come to the notice of Lucius Malfoy. And I wouldn't have learnt Occlumency from Snape. And I wouldn't have been there that night Quirrell came to look at the Mirror. _

_But those are some pretty big ifs. I for one prefer to be as well prepared as I can for the future, as I can't afford to second guess whether my doing so will cause the ante to be raised. So long as I continue to keep on top of my game, I will continue doing things the way I have. _

_I cannot afford to waver on my path. _

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A few days had passed and Draco had sent the others home to practice in private. It certainly helped that he had also started to become able to transform within the blink of an eye.

"When the time comes, Harry…" He muttered one night, quite inebriated on some Ogden's Finest Firewhiskey. "When the time comes, we'll show those… those… those _fools_." He declared, hands waving and gesturing madly, some of the alcohol slopping about.

"Indeed," I murmured, sipping carefully at a chilled Butterbeer. "But perhaps you should stop drinking, Draco, unless you wish to impress them by throwing up on their shoes."

He turned to regard me, a proud smile on his face. "Heh, I can hold my liquor, Harry. But what about you? You've just been drinking that pissy b… bu… beer… beer but… Butterbeer!" He finally managed to make out, and slashed his finger through the air to point it accusingly at the dewy glass bottle I was holding.

"So what? At least I can say Butterbeer without stumbling. Repeat after me, Draco. Butter. Beer._ Butterbeer."_ I replied playfully.

He scowled. "Come on, _Potter_." Sneering a little, he fumbled a bit with an unopened Firewhiskey bottle that sat on the side table next to him (along with its other identical neighbours), then held it out to me. "Just _try_ some. What'll you do if your parents start teaching your _brother_ how to hold his alcohol before a big party? And if he can outdrink you?"

I knew he was trying to draw on my rather competitive streak, but drinking myself into oblivion was not exactly on my To Do List. Come to think of it, nor had actually spending this much time with Draco, either.

"Nah, maybe I'll try something less… strong the first time round." I hedged.

Draco's eyes lit up. "I've got just the thing!" Strangely enough, his words seemed less and less slurred – had he somehow enhanced his metabolism? What little research I had done into the bushmaster type of pit viper Draco claimed was his Animagus form did not hint at any sort of enhanced healing or accelerated metabolism. Perhaps a potion? Rituals? Or was he using something similar to my wristband wards? Regardless, Draco stumbled to his feet, one quarter-full Firewhiskey bottle still clutched in his left hand.

"Here!" He cried, pulling out a book from the bookshelf, then giving up and swiping almost all of the books to the ground, sending them flopping rather haphazardly onto the carpet. Ignoring the damage he had just caused to the books (probably around the seventy galleon mark), he reached into a cavity, and pulled…

"A mocktini?" I was incredulous, but a little curiosity tickled at the back of my mind. Perhaps Snape had been correct – if Malfoy were willing enough to buy a modern _Muggle_ drink, there might still be hope for him… although if it was really worth it, I wasn't quite sure.

"Ah, good, you know what these are. Mug… mudblood creation, but it's actually not too bad." Malfoy covered up his slip with a hiccup. "Has some alcohol in it, and if you feel up to it, we can fix you up a _real_ martini." He seemed oddly excited at the prospect.

"Um… thanks?" I set aside my Butterbeer, reached out with a tentative hand for the glass bottle, twisted the lid open and took a slow sip. The overly sweet tang of faux-strawberries slid over my tongue, and the sugary fakeness of it quickly overwhelmed the mellow syrupy flavour of the Butterbeer that still lingered in my mouth.

"Urgh." I grimaced and held the mocktini bottle at arm's distance.

Draco smirked, already back in his seat. "That bad, huh? All the people I've known that've tried it – they've either hated it or loved 'em. Wonder what the mudbloods put in it that makes it like that…" He mumbled wistfully. "If we put it into something like Firewhiskey, I'm sure it'll taste so much better…"

I snorted, having set aside the mocktini and proceeded to rinse the memory of simulated strawberry from my palate with good old reliable Butterbeer. "Yeah, and then you'd become an alcoholic. Or maybe you'd end up being unlucky enough to hate it instead of liking it."

He glared at me again. "Hey, don't ruin a man's dreams here!"

"Man, what man?" I looked about mockingly. "Oh wait," I smirked. "You mean _me_, don't you?"

Draco threw the empty Firewhiskey bottle at my head, other hand already reaching for a fresh bottle and twisting the lid open with a practised motion. I merely raised a hand and the projectile halted immediately, then flew back at Draco at an even greater speed. He yelped and tried to move out of the way, but it seemed that despite his enhanced metabolism, he was still quite drunk, no thanks to the whole two bottles and a half he had consumed in the last hour. Just before it made contact, however, I stopped the bottle and floated it gently to his side table, where it landed with a soft _tink_.

For a moment, Draco stared at the bottle, then whipped his head around at me. "That… that was _wandless magic!_" He tried to whisper amazedly, but it turned out as more of a stunned shout.

"_No_, Draco, it was a headless mullet. Of course it was wandless magic. Silent too, not that I think about it…" I tapped at my chin thoughtfully and grinned toothily at Draco, vampire teeth showing. He paled, then rather comically lifted his left hand as he had been doing the last hour and a half, but the Firewhiskey poured out with his head in the wrong position.

"Curses!" he well, cursed. Pulling out a wand, he pointed it at the front of his robes then seemed to think better of it. Looking at me with a rather calculating look, he put his wand away, concentrated on the patch of Firewhiskey staining his robes and waved his hand.

Nothing happened. "How in the bloody blazes did you do it, Potter!" He demanded over my laughter. He huffed impatiently when it seemed I wasn't going to stop chuckling at his rather poor attempt at wandless magic.

"Ok, ok." I managed to gasp out. "Well, it kind of helps when you don't have four and a half pints of Firewhiskey in you…" Draco growled threateningly but it didn't help that sometime during my mirth he had sloshed more Firewhiskey about. "Ok, so…" I tried to smother another bout of laughter. "…so you know how you have to… have to…" I snorted, then sniggered.

"On with it, Potter!"

Finally, I managed to calm down, my lecture only punctuated by a few sniggers and chuckles every now and again. "When you do the Cleaning Charm, remember how you have to jab the wand at the thing you're trying to clean?"

Draco nodded, then the proverbial light of understanding seemed to light up above his head. Enthusiastically, he stabbed his index finger at the offending patch, and some of it faded away. "I'm doing it!" He crowed a little drunkenly, unaware of how oddly disturbing it was for him to say that while pointing somewhere in the direction of his crotch.

Eventually, after several tries (the alcohol seemed to be setting in and he accidentally cleaned the Camembert cheese that had been sitting sliced up on a silver platter on the small bench between his and my chair), he managed to clean his robes up.

Looking at the clean robes proudly, he promptly fainted in his seat, the Firewhiskey bottle falling out of his limp hand. I'd managed to halt its fall and put it back on Draco's side table when I noticed his posture. Neck bared. Face pointing away from me.

I hadn't had fresh human blood at all. In fact, I hadn't even had packaged blood, either, although I sometimes wondered if stealing a batch of blood packages from the Red Cross would be better than attacking others for their blood. All Draco had been able to subtly procure for me was a few cups of cow's, pig's or chicken's blood at meal times.

Apparently, he'd had to threaten Dobby into not uttering a single word about it, but Lucius found out anyway, probably when he went through Draco's mind at night.

"May I ask what you're doing with all that blood, Draco?" He offhandedly asked one meal time.

Draco paled, but sat up a little straighter. "We're feeding a pet." Technically we were.

"And… what sort of creature would you be feeding blood to? A vampire…" Draco stiffened. "…bat?" Already, I knew the game was up. Draco desperately needed to take some acting lessons.

Lucius continued to stare at Draco, then turned to regard me. "Perhaps Harry here would have something to say…?" Discreetly, he cautiously moved into my mind, piercing the first 'shield' without problem. The red barrier wasn't really a shield, it merely acted as an alarm of sorts, and it also helped that every piece of important or potentially incriminating information was stored almost exclusively in the seventh circle.

He trailed about, before Draco let loose a sigh of defeat. "We're Animagi, Father. And we've taken Secret Oaths so we can't disclose anything without… each other's explicit permission."

Malfoy senior nodded slowly, although a little satisfaction entered his eyes, something bordering on pride. "I suppose Draco here can tell me his form?"

A pause. "Draco?" Malfoy senior's voice had taken on a more stern tone.

"A pit viper, Father."

Lucius' eyes widened. "Parseltongue?" Draco nodded, and Lucius turned to regard me.

"And you, Harry?"

I ducked my head. Eventually, I told him that my form was a vampire.

"Amazing, Harry. Simply amazing." Just as Lucius was about go on about how fascinating our forms were, Draco spoke up.

"Father? If… if you wouldn't mind, we'd like you to… to make us a Secret Oath. It's…" Draco's face had a tinge of pink that seemed completely out of place. "It's just…"

Lucius, however, smiled thinly. "Of course, Draco." He raised his wand – I did my best not to flinch. "I, Lucius Ferrus Malfoy do swear not to reveal nor allow to betray Draco Narciss Malfoy's and Harry James Potter's Animagus forms nor the fact that they are and have been training to become Animagi." I blinked, quite impressed as to how thorough his oath had been.

If the Secret Oaths the 'clique' had made hadn't locked away the memories so securely that even masters of Legilimency couldn't get at them, I might have been more than slightly worried that Malfoy senior had _already_ leaked the information, but I was pretty certain he had had very little idea before now.

"Very well, Harry." He peered at me intently. "I suppose you wouldn't care to savour some beverages from more… intelligent sources?"

And that was precisely the situation I was in now, staring at the prone Draco's neck, hearing the steady _thump, thump_ of his blood flowing through veins and arteries. I'd said 'no thanks' to Malfoy senior, but right now, the compulsion… the little niggling voice in the back of my head that told me I already considered him prey, seeing as I wasn't allergic to him…

Already succumbing to the desire to imbibe, I took at least one last attempt at checking to see if he really was asleep (through Legilimency and comparing his breathing patterns, although I still wasn't quite good at it yet), then I bent my head down. My teeth pierced his skin and almost immediately, blood flowed through the hollow of the fangs and down my throat.

Forcing a little control onto myself, I pulled my teeth out of him and made sure the wounds closed properly, so that no mark remained. Belatedly, I checked the door but fortunately it was shut and I remembered how Draco had locked it for our 'getting drunk' session. I stood up straight, and almost immediately I could feel the buzz, the sudden twitching and gyrating of the blood in my veins. Magic seemed to hiss about me, but then it dissipated quickly, and I could feel it forcing my magical reserves to increase just that little bit. Another effect was that I suddenly had a few of Draco's rather recent thoughts and memories floating about my first circle – all of which I packed into tight little boxes and shifted them into the fourth circle. It wouldn't do if he'd had his mind booby-trapped and I accidentally let them loose in the innermost echelon of my mind.

What pained me was that some of the alcohol in Draco's blood had been passed onto me, although it was less than what I expected, what with the 60 percent alcohol rating. Of course, this only proved that Draco really did have an enhanced metabolism. Eventually, my own system filtered out the alcohol and I didn't feel slightly tipsy at all.

I took a trip to the loo to ensure the alcohol really was out of my system, and spent the next half an hour sorting through the things that had been buzzing about Draco's mind.

_"…he seems quite more amiable than you described him, Draco." A pause. _

_"I wouldn't know, Father. Perhaps he's like that to people he doesn't really know." _

_"Then what possessed the boy to accept your… our invitation?" A suspicious look glinted in Lucius' eyes. _

_"Professor Snape told him that it might benefit him if we became friends!" blurted Draco, and Lucius was surprised for a bit, before relaxing. _

_"I see… so Severus hasn't been lazing about in the castle. Perhaps I should send him a nice present. The Basilisk parts should do, yes…" muttered Lucius offhandedly, before he turned to regard Draco once more. "Very well – be careful, Draco. He may be more than he seems." Lucius tapped his temple lightly, then stalked away. _

So Lucius was getting suspicious, but I'd expected that. In fact, I had pretty much expected him to be cautious from the outset, seeing as I was from the_ Potter_ family and I wasn't in Slytherin. Even if being in Ravenclaw was better than being in Gryffindor.

Finally, Draco began to stir. "Urgh…" he mumbled numbly. "What _hit_ me…?" He blinked, when the bright lights made him wince.

"Dobby!" With a loud _crack_, Dobby appeared. Draco screamed, then shut up when his own screams exacerbated his hangover.

"Master Draco is hurt, Dobby-" began Dobby the house-elf.

"Dobby!" Hissed Draco. "Shut up, get me the hangover potion and _don't make a sound._" Dobby nodded frantically, disappeared without even a pop, then reappeared almost immediately with a small vial, filled with the same liquid he'd given to Blaise a little over a week ago. Draco guzzled down the potion, waving a dismissing hand at Dobby.

I waited patiently for Draco to stop massaging his temples like his life depended on it. Eventually, he stopped. "Draco?" He looked at me, taking careful movements so as not to jar his still sensitive head.

"Yes?"

"Why do house-elves make that much noise when they don't have to?" None of the house-elves in my house had ever moved silently… but then again, we'd never asked them to, either.

He grimaced. "Security. Pride. Things like that – wizards don't like the idea of a _creature_, a _slave_, mind you, that can sneak up on them. Not to mention most wizards can't manage to Apparate without splinching, let alone silently." I was slightly surprised that Draco could grasp the concept of overbearing pride, and that he could deliver his answer in an orderly manner.

"Really?" I murmured thoughtfully, then frowned when he subconsciously reached for his still open but not yet empty bottle of Firewhiskey. "No you don't, Draco. I do believe that's enough drinking for you, you man." I mock lectured, and he whipped his head around to scowl at me, but the sudden motion caused him to clutch at his head painfully.

"Ow." He muttered. "Fine, I won't drink any." He glanced at the clock, then stood up. I did too.

"Well," I muttered, stepping to the door. "I guess it's high time I got to bed. A nice bath wouldn't be amiss, either." I glared at him. "And brush my teeth, yes, what with that _mocktini_." Shuddering a little in disgust, I opened the door to leave as Draco chuckled softly.

"Good night, Harry."

I turned to look at him, then smiled. "Good night, Draco."

After a nice luxuriating bath and a rather thorough cleansing procedure of my mouth, I was sprawled on the bed, still revelling in the purely unique sensation of silk sheets. This was going to be the second to last night I was spending at the Malfoys, after which term would start again.

So close to term, Draco – and Lucius, and apparently Narcissa – had insisted that we have some fun on the last few days. Apparently this consisted of flying and duels (sometimes both at the same time) during the day and him trying to get drunk and me watching him succeed during the night.

"Seeing as this is your last night here, Harry, I must insist." Lucius prodded a goblet towards me. Narcissa had disappeared somewhere to 'freshen up'. The goblet contained fresh blood, and the aroma rising from it put me in mind of pigs, but it wasn't quite right.

"Human?" I murmured, and Lucius smiled widely.

"Taken from a perfectly healthy specimen." He reassured.

"I…" I began.

"I must insist. I'm sure that once at Hogwarts, the staff might baulk at such a… off-putting practice. So enjoy – it might be the only decent beverage you'll get in a while."

Considering how intently the pair were peering at me, I finally acquiesced and quickly drank from the goblet. After I'd checked it for anything illicit, be it curse or potion. Fortunately for me, it turned up clean.

I closed my eyes. Brief flashes of somebody else's memories, and I remembered how stored blood (even for a few minutes) was nowhere near as good at holding memories and thoughts like fresh blood. Vampires tended to drink from the neck, taking blood that had just gone through brain, all in order to get information without having to bother using their prodigious mind arts.

Malfoy senior had obviously known this, but he hadn't done a good enough job in ensuring the blood held no echo of its original 'owner'. Some of the flashbacks were of intense pain, of a furious Malfoy senior. No doubt a prisoner somewhere in the very castle I was staying in, who had been killed while still mostly whole of body, and had his blood drained for the purpose of feeding me.

"What is it like, Harry, feeling the magic seeping into you?" Malfoy senior was leaning forward almost eagerly.

It was then that I noticed that my scar tingled a little – not sting, definitely not burn, but tingle it did. Another flashback was of Lucius casting the _Avada Kedavra_, no doubt the cause of the little resonance reaction my scar was having. But whoever Lucius had killed was quite strong magically, very strong, in fact.

"It's… it's quite an amazing experience, I must say." I managed to make out, this being only my second experience with drinking blood taken from a magical human. "A little uncomfortable but… not _bad_ uncomfortable, just… itchy."

Lucius leaned backwards, a small smile lingering on his lips. I resolved then and there to figure out a way that would cause any Animagus tests to turn up negative. If he somehow managed to find a way around the Secret Oath…

"Harry?"

"Oh, hey Terry!" I waved cheerfully at him, then greeted the others as well as they came to sit down beside or near me at the Ravenclaw table.

"Man, I don't know how I'll be able to eat any of this… you know they got some new stuff on the snacks trolley?" asked Felran Chase, the fourth male Ravenclaw first year. There only were the four of us, but Felran had only recently become part of our 'group'.

I shook my head 'no'. Of course I wouldn't – I hadn't been on the damn train! "Well, yeah, they did." answered Felran a little lamely, but his excitement made up for it. "There's all these things, like, like… _Jupiter Slabs_-" I snorted at the obvious copy of Muggle Mars Bars. "-and you bite into one and it's got all this chewy stuff, caramel, yeah, that stuff! And when you chew, everyone's heads around you start to look like you know, those models of Jupiter you see in Astronomy?" He continued on about the new selection of sweets, while the Muggleborn and mixed blood students didn't have the heart to tell him (or others like him) that the Wizarding World had copied the Muggles.

"I would like to welcome our new Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts, Professor Moody!" The scarred and prosthetic-laden Professor eschewed standing up, more in favour of glaring at all of us in turn.

Just as Dumbledore was about to dismiss us, Moody yelled out "Constant Vigilance!" and half the hall jumped. Some of the staff smothered their chuckles quickly, while others (like Snape) opted to glare at him.

"Well, hurry along now, chop chop!"

"He seems like an interesting character, doesn't he?"

"…heard he's an ex-Auror. You reckon he'll…"

"Well, anything's an improvement over q… qu… _Quirrell_." A few laughs at that one.

"Move along now! You can gossip _inside_ of the common room, no?"

All in all, it was a much less 'interesting' start to the term than I had expected. Dumbledore hadn't really reacted much to the information I had managed to pick up (and happened to pass along) whilst at Malfoy Manor, but he _had_ said it would be a great help.

That night, I didn't dream of a single thing.

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Author's Notes:- Let's see, what needs to be explained:

1. Draco's use of surnames – he only calls Harry 'Potter' when he gets annoyed at him. And drunk.

2. Blood drinking – vampires have such an enhanced metabolism that they can strip all sorts of things from the food/drink they consume. This includes magic and memories/thoughts, the latter in particular if the blood is fresh out of the brain.

3. Harry and Draco getting on! – they might be, they might be. But Draco is being warned into being more cautious than he already is, and Harry never trusted the Malfoys to begin with!

4. Mixed blood – like Harry, although it's not restricted to half-and-half, maybe quarter-and-three-quarters (kinda redundant saying more than just 'quarter magical' or 'quarter Muggle').

5. Moody – he's turned up! Why not Lockhart? Because it's in the middle of the year and he hasn't had time to organise it with his publicity agent!

The close of the Malfoy Manor visit, and the beginning of an entire new arc! Mad-Eye Moody is here, and Pettigrew hasn't even been mentioned yet! Things are getting mixed up in this AU, and things start getting confusing when Jeremy starts acting strange?

Also coming up soon, we change Perspective by changing the narrator! Who will it be? Terry? Lisa? Jeremy? Hermione? Flitwick? Scheduled for chapter 13, when the eighth type of magic, Chaos Magic, mixes up the Point of View! (Please note that in this story, Chaos Magic is a subdivision of Soul Magic.)


	11. 11 Paranoia

**Desiring Other Times **

Chapter 11 – Paranoia

Disclaimer: How could I own Harry Potter if I don't even own one of those little monkeys that clang together those cymbals? Because that's what J. K. Rowling must use as a muse… I mean, why else would she be relying on the oh-so cliché 'We can't stand each other for ten minutes so that means we're made for each other' foundation for the Ron-Hermione relationship? However, kudos to her for making so many possibilities for these absolutely fantastic (in S'Tarkan's, nonjon's and The Professional's cases) Alternate Universes, or the downright stupid… which includes mine.

goes off in search of more plot bunnies

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_"I'm not a superman, so I can't say anything big like I'll protect everyone on Earth. I'm not a modest guy who will say it's enough if I can protect as many people as my two hands can handle, either. I want to protect… a mountain-load of people." _

_I've read stories and watched movies where the protagonists have promised to protect 'everyone' on Earth, even though their conflict (whatever form it takes) occurs in some plain out in the middle of nowhere. Then there are other stories where the writers have tried to be realistic, and the character promises only to do their very best. _

_But true realism comes when the character is a selfish bastard that won't do anything unless it's big enough, when it's sure to bring fame, money and power. _

_I have power. I have money. I don't need fame. _

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Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Moody 'clunked' his way across from the door to the 'back' of the room where the Professor's table was. Originally, the table would have been just a few metres in front of you when you entered the room, but it seemed Moody was paranoid enough that he couldn't stand sitting in such an 'exposed' position.

"I hear your first few months of Defence Against the Dark Arts have been… frankly put, a bit of a joke. In fact, I was quite surprised that your parents hadn't pulled you out of the school, with that fool's incompetence." He growled out, waving and pointing his wand at random things in the classroom at frequent but unexpected intervals. They all glowed green, meaning they were free from any sort of magical enchantment. "Anyway! Thankfully, I have at least until the end of this year to make sure you enter the Second Year with a quite thorough understanding of the basics."

"I'd rather conduct practical lessons, but seeing as you haven't had a proper grounding in the essentials, you'll have to make do with those interesting stories your older friends might tell you about their classes." Most of the students looked quite disappointed.

"That isn't to say we won't have a few practicals from time to time, but First Year Defence Against the Dark Arts has been and will always be a theory course."

Moody finally took the roll, his normal, dark brown (almost black), beady little eye moving steadily down the list, while his electric blue left eye swivelled about freely, focussing momentarily on each student as they replied in the affirmative that yes, they were present. When he got to my name, he barely seemed to pause but when his bright blue eye focussed on me, I felt some very thin tendrils of mind magic poke through the first sphere of 'defence' and into the first circle – not finding anything interesting, he continued on with the roll and turned his magical eye on my brother.

First and Second Year Ravenclaw had Potions, Charms and Flying Lessons with Hufflepuff, while we had Astronomy, Herbology and History of Magic with the Slytherins, and Defence Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration with Gryffindor. I had no idea about Third Year, as we began taking electives then.

"Jeremy Potter…" He murmured, peering at him steadily with _both_ his eyes. For a brief moment, he glanced back at me, but then he shook his head and went back to staring at Jeremy. I wondered what that was about… perhaps he'd just seen an interesting memory of me?

"Take care not to shock your fellow students too much, Mr. Potter." He finally said, and Jeremy looked vaguely confused and slightly insulted. I grinned inwardly – finally we had a teacher who didn't appreciate having famous students but _didn't_ pay them out for it. Too much. At least, not more than was fair.

Eventually, he got to the end of the list (with Ron Weasley), and he took us through the first few chapters of _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_. Some of it Quirrell had, in his few bursts of professionalism, actually taught, so we breezed through the rather limited text. Jeremy looked particularly bored – our parents had taken us through the basics years ago, and moved onto stuff a little more complicated – while his only female companion, Hermione, seemed quite interested to see how Moody could bring an extra dimension to the text.

"Mr. Potter?" Every time I had to share a class with my brother, I tended to pay a little more attention to check if the Professor was talking to Jeremy or me. This time, Moody was looking right at me. "If a group of wizards were to accost you and your friends, what should you do?"

My mind raced through all the possibilities I would actually take in reality, but finally settled on saying the answer he wanted. "I would try to distract them and run away," I replied tonelessly.

He nodded. "Precisely. None of you have the training to take on a group of wizards – or witches – that are fully trained." He glared at all of us in turn. "Do you seriously think that after a few months in this place you'll be able to take on someone that's spent almost _seven years_ in a school like Hogwarts?" He challenged, and many sullen faces turned embarrassed.

The lesson continued in much the same vein, until the bell rang and the Gryffindors had to hurry to Herbology with Hufflepuff while I had to rush to Accelerated Potions.

Snape had seemed to believe we could figure out the all the theory behind Potions after a few weeks of lessons, and had set us to brewing potions for almost all of our classes. Considering we _were_ the accelerated class, this wasn't too hard to swallow. Sometimes he set a potion that wasn't in our textbooks, and wrote the instructions on a blackboard. Today was one such day, and we had been instructed to brew a Dehydrating Distillation that could drain all of the water out of liquids and moist solids. Many people used a little of it to preserve food or save space when storing drinks, to be reconstituted at a later time.

We had to be careful not to let it come into contact with our skin, so all of us were wearing our dragon-scale gloves and the protective lab coats Snape had provided when he realised that if almost all of his class died due to dehydration, things would look _really_ bad for him. And there'd be a lot of paperwork, too.

Snape had provided all of us with a crystal flask each, capped and filled to the brim with water. Our task was to fill the flask with the Dehydrating Distillation without there being any water in it beforehand. A quick spell to check the concentration of the Distillation in the flask compared to in the cauldron would prove whether we had been successful in our endeavour.

Everyone emptied their flasks – no-one was stupid enough to not do that step – and then various strategies of drying out the flask began. Some put their flasks near their fire (they couldn't risk it overheating and shattering), others stuffed a rag down it in an attempt to soak up the last of it. Some tried combinations of all the methods they saw being used in the class.

Smoothly, I poured a little of the Distillation into my flask, whisked it about for a bit then Vanished it when I was sure it had done its job. I filled my flask up again with the Distillation, this time to the top.

By the end of the class, not many people had realised they had a whole cauldronful (those that had brewed it properly in the first place, of course) of potion that could help them. Snape wasn't pleased, but somehow he managed to not to have an apoplexy then and there. "It seems not many of you are capable of _thinking_, but I suppose that's to be expected of dunderheads like you…" he hissed, and the students that hadn't 'thought outside the box' quivered fearfully.

At lunchtime, I was approached by Neville.

"Harry? There's something strange going on – we need to talk to you." He whispered into my ear and less discreetly he proceeded to drag me away from my meal and out the door to the Great Hall.

"What? What's going on?" I complained, and Hermione and Ron looked at each other.

"You… you haven't spoken to Jeremy recently, have you? Like, _really_ recently." added Hermione.

I shook my head. "No, I haven't. Why?"

They all looked at each other again, sharing worried looks. Even I was becoming a little nervous. "What?" I asked again.

"He's… he's been acting strange…" Ron shifted uncomfortably.

"Like… strange, how?" I tried to drag out the entire situation out of them verbally, while I grabbed all the pertinent details from their minds.

"He's… he just stopped talking in the middle of Herbology and went to the Hospital Wing, saying he had a headache." I frowned a little at this. Unexplained headaches were more _my _forte, and for my brother to start having them was a situation I hadn't considered. "Then… then he's just been acting weird, like he looks at us strangely, as if…" Neville trailed off.

"…as if we're going to disappear any moment…" murmured Hermione, and my eyes widened.

What was going on?

"Hermione? Ron? Neville?" Jeremy's voice sounded out from behind us and I started – I hadn't even noticed him! Whipping around, I gazed at him in a nonchalant manner. I didn't miss how his eyes seemed to widen but then his face returned to a rather bland expression, the kind of face a person wears when they're putting their all into Occluding their mind.

"Harry?" His voice seemed to waver a little, but it seemed only I noticed.

"Jeremy," I nodded at him.

He looked at me for a little bit. "I'll talk to you later, okay?" I nodded again, mind buzzing as I tried to remember when he'd last been _this_ uncomfortable around me.

That night, Hedwig the owl swooped into my dorm, bearing a small note for me.

"Hey girl…" I ruffled her feathers and pushed the Owl Treat dish towards her. She took a few then flew off again, while I tried to discern if my brother's note had any hidden meaning.

_Harry, _

_Meet me in the Come and Go Room now. _

_Jeremy_

For some reason, his signature seemed a little off. And the Come and Go Room? I puzzled over it, occasionally tapping at the piece of parchment with my wand, commanding it to 'Reveal Your Secrets!', but nothing happened.

I scoured over the Marauders' Map, and followed Jeremy's name until it disappeared somewhere along the seventh floor.

There was only one room I knew of that existed on the seventh floor but the Marauders had been unable to plot onto the map. The Room of Requirement.

"Shit!" Pulling out my Invisibility Cloak, stuffing it into my robes and hurrying out of Ravenclaw Tower, I raced up to the seventh floor. By the time I got up to the Room of Requirement, I was a little out of breath, having been forced to run with a slightly uneven gait due to the cloak.

I checked the corridor to make sure no-one could see the door suddenly open and close, then slipped into the Room. Where I was met with the tip of Jeremy's wand.

"Easy!" I called, gently tugging my cloak off. "What're you doing, threatening me with your wand when you're the one who called me here?" I complained good-naturedly, although my heart was thumping and I had been about to send a couple of Reducing Hexes at him.

Jeremy tucked his wand away. "Just being careful, Harry."

Here, alone with him, I could clearly see that something was… well, _off_, about Jeremy. The way he walked was suddenly with more grace than I had ever seen him display, silent and efficient. His face was stern, his posture that of a prowling Nundu.

He whipped about and pointed his wand at me. "_Legilimens!_"

Instinctively, I hurled him backwards before he'd even gotten past the first sphere.

"What the hell are you thinking, Jeremy!" My wand was out and I was creeping along the edges of the room, circling about where he had landed.

"Just… just testing to see if you can protect your mind, little brother."

I scowled. He hadn't called me that in a while.

He raised his wand again and I tensed. "I swear on my life and magic that what I will now tell Harry James Potter will be completely true and factual." A blaze of magic surrounded him, and I winced, covering my eyes with my left arm.

"What're you doing, Jeremy?" My tone was slightly less accusing, much more curious.

Two chairs, a table and some alcohol appeared. This scene was becoming increasingly familiar to me.

"Sit. I… I have a lot to tell you, Harry."

His uncertain tone after his rather impressive show of magical strength put me on guard yet again, and I sat down cautiously, my eyes flickering from him to the furniture to the drinks and back to him again.

"Should I make another oath to promise I won't harm you? Intentionally?" He added.

I paused, then shook my head.

"Okay, now listen and don't interrupt. There's a lot I need to say."

I nodded.

"Good. Once upon a time, a boy called Harry Potter was born on the 31st of July, to James and Lily Potter." I frowned, but remembered how he'd said not to interrupt. "Harry was a happy baby, and he was loved by his parents, his godfather Sirius and his parents' friend Remus. But then a prophecy was made, and the Potter family had to go into hiding, under the Fidelius Charm. After they were betrayed by Peter Pettigrew, Voldemort came to kill the Potters."

I stared him. I knew all this – why was he telling it all again?

"Voldemort killed-" Wait… there hadn't been any killing done by Voldemort that night! "-James first, then Lily when she refused to let him kill Harry Potter."

Cold rushed through me. Our parents dead? And where was Jeremy in all of this?

"When he tried to kill Harry, the curse rebounded, and Harry was sent to live with Lily's sister's family, the Dursleys."

What? The magic hating Muggles? What on earth? I opened my mouth, but he waved my questions away and I remembered my promise.

"Harry was 'raised' by them for ten years, unknowing of his magical heritage or the fact that his parents had been killed, rather than killed by a car crash. When he turned eleven, letters started coming, brought by owls. His aunt and uncle refused to let him read them, and it wasn't until Hagrid came along to tell Harry about his true history that Harry knew he was a wizard." Jeremy paused, then grabbed a bottle of plain old Muggle gin.

"In his first year at Hogwarts, Voldemort entered the school by possessing a professor, and sought to steal the Philosopher's Stone. In his second year, Voldemort entered yet again, but this time as a memory, and re-opened the Chamber of Secrets. In his third year, Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban, where he had been placed after 'evidence' showed he had betrayed Lily and James Potter and murdered Peter Pettigrew and a street-full of Muggles." At Pettigrew's name, I muttered 'Good Riddance', but the rest of it… "Sirius Black was actually innocent, and they almost caught Peter Pettigrew that year, but he escaped to find his master, Lord Voldemort."

Jeremy took a swig if gin, and as he tipped his head back, his hair fell clear off his forehead and I saw his scar. The ring was gone. The 's' was stretching, straightening, and it was beginning to look eerily like mine. What the…?

"In Harry's fourth year, the Triwizard Tournament was held, but Harry was forced into the competition when a Death Eater Confounded the Cup to spit out his name. The other Hogwarts' champion died that year, killed by Pettigrew but with Voldemort's wand. That year, Voldemort rose again, using a potion that contained Harry's blood and a bunch of other things. Harry almost died that year, but he managed to get back to safety and warn everyone of Voldemort's second rise. The Ministry didn't believe him – didn't want to – and they began a smear campaign against Harry and Dumbledore."

He looked at me, and I thought I should see some sort of sign in his eyes of his troubles, but there was nothing. "Sirius Black died in the fifth year, when he came in to save Harry from a trap Voldemort had weaved for him. That year, Dumbledore finally told Harry the prophecy that Voldemort had tried to trick Harry into retrieving. In the sixth year…" Jeremy paused, guzzled from the gin bottle then continued. "In the sixth year, Dumbledore clued Harry into just what exactly was keeping Voldemort alive. They were called Horcruxi."

I blinked, mind racing as I tried to remember where I'd heard that word. "_Soul splitting_?"

Jeremy seemed pleased that I knew. "Exactly. To tie his soul to the world, he split it into several bits that acted as anchors." He put down the gin bottle on the table. "Harry had already destroyed one in his second year, the object that held Voldemort's memories and allowed him to possess a student to open the Chamber of Secrets. Dumbledore had destroyed another, but at the cost of severely injuring his right hand, his dominant wand hand, in fact."

Here, Jeremy sighed rather world-wearily. "A plot had been hatched by Voldemort, and it resulted in the death of Dumbledore, by the hands of Snape. Many things happened that year, including the invasion of Hogwarts by Death Eaters."

I blinked, swallowed. "Harry planned with his friends Hermione and Ron to forgo their seventh year at Hogwarts-" It was about now that I realised he was talking about another Harry, one who had never known his parents, never had a brother, and had never been sorted into Ravenclaw. "-and go in search of all the other Horcruxi. Long, hard battles were fought, sometimes with the help of the Order of the Phoenix, sometimes but even rarer with the help of Aurors, most times with no help at all. Harry lost everyone by the time the last battle with Voldemort came around."

This time, when he looked at me I could see that his eyes were glinting a little bit more than usual. "Harry couldn't bear the thought of having to go through his life without anyone who had known _him _and not the Boy-Who-Lived, and now, the killer of Voldemort. So he, along with the help of the 'split personalities' he carried, which were actually copies of Dumbledore's and Snape's minds, managed to find a way to send him into a world where everyone was still alive. Where he could start again."

I blinked. "Just who the hell are you?" I finally asked, and pointed my wand at him.

He held his hands out, palms open. "I'm Harry Potter." Jeremy's eyes narrowed. "But a different Harry from you-"

"Where's Jeremy?"

The boy tapped his mind. "Inside, somewhere. Let me finish explaining, and then you can decide whether or not I deserve to be hexed."

I frowned, but nodded curtly, keeping my wand trained on him. "The incantation involved having to narrow down the person I was going to be sent to through their name, but Harry Potter was… _is_ such a common name and I couldn't risk being sent into a fifty-year old Muggle's body. So I used the words 'the one called the Boy-Who-Lived'. Unfortunately… it seems that your brother Jeremy was _called_ the Boy-Who-Lived, and here I am… if I had been sent into _your_ body, our minds would have actually been able to fuse together, but because Jeremy and I aren't the same person, and because… I am… I _was_ older, my magic… kind of pushed him into a corner."

"So you killed my brother."

"No, no, no! That's not it at all. He's just… been temporarily displaced, but he's still here."

"And… the difference is?"

Jeremy squirmed. "Look! I'm Harry from another world and I can help you!"

"Do I look like I need your help?"

"You do, Harry, you do. You have no idea how strong even _Snape_ is, and Voldemort is exponentially more capable than him. Look, I'm sure I can move 'me' from your brother to you, and he won't remember a thing and we should be perfectly fine. I promise."

"How can I trust you?"

"Do you trust in your Occlumency shields? Do you trust yourself? Because if you do, then you know you can stop me from taking control. And I'm sure that since I can see you and we're both in the same… the same universe, then I can control how I get placed in your mind."

"You're not me. How can you be sure we'll… that I won't have the same reaction as you had with Jeremy?"

He sighed. "Look. Trust me, I made the oath. I'm here to help you. Me. Us. Everyone. This is your chance to leap several years ahead and make a difference."

I looked at him. "No thanks." His eyes widened. "I'm already an Animagus, _Harold_. I know Occlumency and Legilimency. I can move at greater than half the speed of sound and lift over a tonne. I'm probably magically stronger than most sixth years and I know more than any first year has a right to know. I don't need your help, and I don't trust you."

With that, I made to leave the Room of Requirement but Jeremy's hand swiped at the back of my robes.

"That's only a few years, Harry. How about twenty? Wouldn't you like to know more?"

"Stop trying to appeal to my inner Ravenclaw. It won't work."

"Dumbledore doesn't think you're the Boy-Who-Lived – you're going to miss out on an incredible amount of information."

"You're not even from this universe – what makes you think your information is going to be correct!" I challenged, and the boy in Jeremy fell silent.

"Do you know the prophecy?"

I snorted. "Of course I do: '_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. The Marked One's brother will light the way and he will become as ash, mourned by the birds of Ra. The Dark Lord and the Marked One are fated to battle seven times, and either must die at the hand of the other._' I bet it's different to _your_ prophecy…" I sneered.

"Hang on. Shouldn't you already know this universe's prophecy? Jeremy knew it…"

Jeremy shook his head. "I haven't had the time to try and pull Jeremy out from the corner he's been shoved into. But… well, _my_ prophecy was a little different, but essentially it's pretty much the same." He peered at me curiously. "So everyone's expecting you to die?"

I shrugged. "Probably."

"Your form's not a phoenix, is it?" I shook my head.

"Then it can't be you." He pointed out.

"I already knew that, idiot."

Jeremy rubbed at his scar. "Look. It'll just be easier for everyone involved if you let me into your mind. Jeremy won't remember a thing and his scar will go back to the way it was, and you can enjoy the bonuses of having the knowledge and magic of a thirty-year old."

"What's the catch?"

He looked puzzled. "Catch?"

"Something this 'good' has to have a catch. The only one I can think of is having to put up with _you_ in my head."

"Er… well, you'll also have to put up with having a Snape and Dumbledore in your head too…" He admitted.

"Forget it!" I strode out the door, disappeared under my Invisibility Cloak and hurried back to Ravenclaw Tower. He didn't follow.

So that was what was wrong with Jeremy. He wasn't even there – it was a really, really weird 'me' in there instead. A 'me' that hadn't had a family, a 'me' that had lost everyone and everything.

A me that had felt it was better to go 'back' and do it all over again.

I sighed, stumbling into my bed.

A few minutes later, Terry's voice called over the curtains of my four-poster. "Harry? There's an owl for you…"

Sluggishly, I went to get the letter from the owl – it was Hedwig.

When I grabbed the letter, the words 'Harry Potter' changed smoothly into 'Do Not Open in Public'.

"Thanks, Terry," I muttered absentmindedly, then returned to the confines of my curtain-encircled four-poster bed.

The letter was surrounded by a lot of magic, and it was with much apprehension that I slit open the letter, protected by a field of general protection runes.

A flash of bright light and I noted that the runes had activated. There, trapped in the circle of magic was a smoky form that put into mind what Voldemort had looked like when he fled. The smoke eventually gathered into a recognisable form – somebody that looked like Father, but had Mother's eyes.

"You don't look anything like me – are you _sure_ Jeremy isn't you just… called something else?" I pointed out, and the Harry trapped by the runes scowled.

"I'm sure. Now you _just_ had to go and…"

"Now you know that I know how to look after myself, dimwit."

"Yes, but if I can't get back into a body within… twenty minutes, I'm freaking dead!"

"You know, you look like Voldemort did. Earlier this year, when he left Quirrell behind." I commented nonchalantly. His eyes widened.

"You've already faced Quirrell? But… It's only second term!"

"Yeah, and it wasn't the Philosopher's Stone, it was the Holy Grail."

If it were at all possible, his eyes bulged even more. "The _Holy Grail_! He didn't get it, right?" An undercurrent of panic entered his voice.

"Nup. Now, what were you thinking, trying to trick me into letting myself get possessed by you?"

He looked abashed. "Look, I'm sorry, but I really don't want to actually kill your brother."

"So you'd rather kill me, is that it?"

"_No_, for goodness' sake! There's a lot of things that'll be different from how it happened when I got sent into your brother's body, and… Look, don't you want to show up your brother? Don't you want to be better than him?"

"I already am," I pointed out.

"You're being rather stubborn, you know."

"I'm not stupid enough to let myself get _possessed_." I retorted.

"You're not getting possessed!" His tone was getting progressively irate as the conversation wore on, and I could see he was fading a little. "Just think of me as an invisible friend, with extra benefits."

"You know, that sounds awfully… _disturbing_."

"Not like _that_!"

"And I still don't like the idea of having Snape and Dumbledore in my head."

"It's not _your _Snape and Dumbledore, it's just… a copy of the one's I know. Knew. Like a simulation program. And if that'll help you deal with how they act, isn't that all the better?"

I sighed. This was getting troublesome.

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Author's Notes: Well, things are getting strange. This is already an AU, and now another Harry turns up?

1. The first paragraph is from Bleach, Volume 6, Chapter 4, page 11.

2. Moody – someone who doesn't dress up the facts and says it like it is. Very paranoid, but still different to how faux Moody acted.

3. Snape – still irrational, in that he believes that everyone should be able to know everything about how to brew perfect potions but fails to teach them it. Probably because he wants to make Potions seems more difficult than it really is.

4. Room of Requirement/Come and Go Room – the latter is how Dobby refers to the room, and Other-Harry uses the name so if the owl gets intercepted, the meaning isn't immediately clear.

5. Jeremy – when Other-Harry was placed into his body, Other-Harry wasn't exactly compatible with Jeremy and his overwhelming superiority in all areas over Jeremy pushed Jeremy into a corner of his mind.

6. Other-Harry – a Harry that experienced everything canon-Harry did, but since canon-Harry isn't expected to go 'back'…

This was more of an intermission chapter, introducing new characters and setting up the events that will be rolling on in the next chapter. Don't forget chapter 12 heralds the change in perspective!

Don't forget the FF authors I just plugged in the Disclaimer – their AU-Harrys are exceptional!


	12. 12 Variations

**Desiring Other Times **

Chapter 12 - Variations

Disclaimer: The only things in this story I own are Jeremy Potter, Thomas Gravey, Felran Chase, some of the given names for the Slytherins that visited Malfoy Manor, and wristband wards. Everything else (unless I've forgotten something) is J. K. Rowling's, or Bloomsbury Press'. Bloody bastards.

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_I've always been a stubborn wizard. If I have a goal, nothing will stop me, no obstacle, no barrier, nothing. I will work and work towards that goal and should anyone or anything stand in my way, I will ensure they are removed. _

_Jeremy Potter is the Boy-Who-Lived, and I will make sure he destroys Voldemort once and for all. There are myriads of obstacles in between this goal of mine, and the first is the fact that Jeremy's confidence has taken quite a battering due to the rather superior results of his brother. Of course, the entry of Jeremy into the Gryffindor Quidditch team boosted it a little, but it was a moot point when my first training run for the Boy-Who-Lived ended up being foiled by Harry Potter. _

_I am loath to have to remove Harry from the equation – he is a rather useful boy, but if his presence continues to be detrimental to Jeremy's chances of coming into his own… well, I suppose I could convince Lily and James that Harry would do better at another school. Durmstrang, perhaps, in order to keep an eye on potential recruits of Voldemort. Killing him would be too much trouble – not to mention Harry can still be useful halfway across the world. _

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"Albus?" Minerva opened the door to my office, and peered in. The gargoyle downstairs had already alerted me to her presence, but I played along.

"Minerva! What brings you here?"

"Harry Potter's just been checked into the Hospital Wing." I started. What?

"And what ails Mr. Potter?" I stood up, moving towards the door.

"Madam Pomphrey can't say – the students that found him say he was unconscious on his bed." We hurried down the corridor. "They had to cut their way through the curtains around his bed, when he didn't answer them in the morning."

"Cut their way?"

"He'd sealed his curtains and the boys – bless them – didn't know the counter-spell."

"I see…" We drew up to the Hospital Wing and strode in.

"Poppy?"

"Albus! Thank goodness you're here, maybe you can help us figure out what's wrong with Mr. Potter." Pure relief flooded her voice.

"He isn't wounded, nor is he showing any signs of magical exhaustion. Severus and I tested for poison, but he's completely clean." Poppy looked up at me worriedly. "Something's making his skin break out hives though, Professor. I've tried testing for all sorts of allergies, but nothing's turned up yet."

Harry's pallor seemed to make him fade into the whiteness of his bed, and I brought a hand to his forehead.

Seeing what I was doing, Poppy spoke up again. "There isn't a fever, and we've tried testing for Muggle diseases but they've all come back negative as well. Severus should be back soon with our tests for Magical illnesses, but…" She trailed off.

"There's an unusual amount of magic centring on his forehead…" I murmured, and Minerva and Poppy seemed to pale. Even if Harry wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived, he had been present that night, and who knew what could come from a curse scar caused by the backlash of a Killing Curse?

"It's… it's not…"

I shook my head. "But not about the scar specifically. If I didn't know better, I would say Mr. Potter is in a meditative trance, but something seems a little… strange." Bracing myself, I entered Harry's mind, piercing through the barriers with some difficulty.

There wasn't anything strange at all in his mind, everything was in its place and nothing seemed out of order at all. But then again, Harry was an eleven-year old wizard – surely his mind wouldn't be _this_ perfect? The feeling that I was missing something didn't dissipate, and it was only when I bumped into something unseeable that I realised what was wrong.

There, before me, was an invisible barrier. Beyond it, thoughts and memories floated by, but they seemed indistinct. Perhaps the barrier wasn't invisible at all, and was merely 'coloured' in camouflage. Somewhere, somehow, Harry had learned to hide his true mind extremely well.

Focussing on something you couldn't see was quite difficult, but I managed to slip through the invisible barrier. On the other side were more thoughts and memories, but still nothing seemed to pertain to just what exactly was wrong with Harry. Again, everything was neat and orderly, which led me to believe that there were more barriers, more sectors in Harry's mind.

I had no time to explore further as I was suddenly hurled out of his mind and back a few steps in the real world.

"Albus?"

"Unngh…" Harry groaned, and Poppy whirled around.

"Mr. Potter?" She hurried to his side again, and peered down at him worriedly.

"I… Merlin, I have the _worst_ headache…" his hoarse, scratchy voice seemed like it had been caused more by _screaming_ than by severe dryness of the throat due to dehydration. Poppy dashed off then back again, holding a small bottle of Muggle pills and a glass of water.

"Asp… aspirin?" Harry looked at the pills, eyes a little unfocussed.

"We don't know what happened to you, Mr. Potter, and we can't risk using one of our potions." She glanced at him. "Perhaps you can tell us what caused this?"

Minerva moved to Harry's other side. "Yes, I'm sure we'd all like to know that, Mr. Potter."

Harry popped the pills and swallowed them down with the water, not without a little wince of pain as they passed his throat. Just as he finished the water, I pointed at it and it was full again. He looked at me, nodded and forced a smile of thanks.

"I… I'm not sure, I… I was trying out a new…" He glanced at Minerva and Poppy.

"They know about the Occlumency lessons, my boy." I supplied, having gleaned his worries from the outermost sector of his mind.

He nodded. "Um… I was- I was trying a new exercise, putting in… putting in golems in my head." Harry looked up at me through his eyelashes. "Were there…?"

I shook my head. "None that I could see, Mr. Potter. But I must say, the defences you already have are… formidable, to say the least." I commented offhandedly and was rewarded with Harry's face freezing for an incredible minute moment. Minerva glanced at me with surprise, but when she looked back at Harry, her expression seemed to be more of someone who had expected for me to praise him like that. She knew most of the prophecy, not to mention that Harry, being the brother of the Boy-Who-Lived, would no doubt become someone incredibly powerful.

Strong enough to buy Jeremy more time.

"I… thankyou." Harry mumbled, embarrassed. I could see that he didn't really believe that the 'great wizard Albus Dumbledore' thought so highly of his skills. Perhaps it was a result of always having been second best to Jeremy, that no matter how good he was, all everyone wanted was Jeremy. Even with how much more superior he was in class to everyone in his year – including his brother – even with that, it seemed Harry couldn't shake that feeling of never being enough.

"I mean every word I say, Harry… and I saw enough of your mind to know that given a little more time, you will have truly mastered Occlumency." I tried to reassure him without sounding too ridiculous – children these days were all too cynical.

He snorted. "No-one can ever say they've mastered anything, Professor. That's what keeps the Muggles going and going, what makes them push to new heights, while the Wizarding World still haven't found a better Portkey than the one they _stumbled_ across six _freaking_ centuries ago!" His voice was bitter, and I wondered where all this was coming from…

"Mr. Potter!" Minerva admonished his language, but we could all tell she was relieved that the son of James was feeling well enough to by caustic.

"That _is_ an interesting idea, Harry. A better Portkey…" It really was – wouldn't it be better if the Portkey didn't spin the traveller about? If it didn't spend so much time in the ether dimension? If it was more efficient? I made a mental note to have a chat with Vanus and Filius later… if even the Arithmancy and Charms professors of Hogwarts couldn't come up with a few ideas, no-one short of a think tank of geniuses could.

"Be that as it may be – you will still be on par with the best Occlumens in the world."

"I don't believe you." His reply was instantaneous, like a reflex reaction.

Poppy and Minerva seemed immensely worried at his rather disparaging mood, when they knew Harry to be someone that went out of his way to be unoffending. Even I was worried.

"Perhaps you will believe me when we begin teaching you Legilimency." I offered as a compromise, and he nodded curtly.

"Perhaps." Something in him seemed to deflate, and he slumped a little. "I… I'm a little tired, sir, and…" He gestured vaguely at his head. "…I've got a headache, so forgive me if I'm not… in the best of moods."

"That is understandable-" His face seemed to lock up at that word, but I ploughed on hastily. "-Harry. Consider yourself excused from classes, for however long it takes for you to recover from your… illness. However, there's still one more thing. Are you allergic to anything, Harry?"

He froze, fingers clutching at the sheets. Harry mumbled something indistinct.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but you're going to have to repeat that… My hearing must be going in my old age." I joked self-depreciatingly.

"While… during the holidays…" Minerva gasped, mind racing through all sorts of possibilities, all sorts of things Lucius might have done to Harry. "…I became an Animagus, and…" Harry paused. The three of us were quite confused. What did becoming an Animagus have to do with allergies? Oh, wait…

"And your form is allergic to what, Harry?" I prompted.

Again, he mumbled something.

"Mr. Potter, _do_ speak up." admonished Poppy.

"I'm a vampire and I'm allergic to people I don't consider prey!" He blurted out, and the three of us blanched then involuntarily stepped back.

"Dear gods… a _vampire_? And _that_ species?" murmured Minerva, awestruck.

Poppy brought a palm to her head, and sighed exasperatedly. "Well, I'm sure I can find something that can help with _that_ allergy…" She strode off, then came back two minutes later, arms laden down with jars and flasks. "It's fortunate that you're not _really_ a vampire, else none of these potions or balms would actually have any noticeable effect. Perhaps you could have Severus teach Mr. Potter how to brew them?"

"I'll need you to all make me a Secret Oath…" Harry looked up at all of us, eyes stern.

"Of course, my boy." We all raised our wands and spoke the generic oath for protection of secrets, specifying where necessary what secret we were locking away.

"I suppose we shouldn't disturb Mr. Potter any longer. Rest well, Harry."

Harry nodded, and Minerva and I excused ourselves. Poppy conferred with me about what types of potions would be safe to use given there seemed to be an excessive amount of Soul Magic flowing through him.

"Albus?"

"Yes, Minerva?"

She glanced back in the direction of the Hospital Wing. "Will… will he be alright?"

I sighed. "I'm sure Mr. Potter will be able to pull through. He _is_ a Potter, after all." I alluded to his Gryffindor heritage, and Minerva took the hint.

"Yes, he is, isn't he?" She replied, offhandedly. "Don't you think it strange he ended up Ravenclaw, though? Seeing as how he has… well…" She trailed off.

"Blood doesn't make you all you are – something Voldemort has never been able to understand. Harry may have begun to grasp this idea, and it might explain why he seems on better terms with young Mr. Malfoy."

Minerva's face twitched. "That's another thing, Albus. How can we be sure…?" At my knowing look, her eyes widened, a little in awe, a little in horror.

"You've been using Legilimency on the _students_!" She paused.

"But I know he's experiencing doubts. Unfortunately, it seems that when he went home, his father well… _reprogrammed_ him, so to speak, and when he came back again for term, we were back at square one. But what we have to remember is that he started to walk the path. And he's beginning to, again." I reassured her. She seemed both disgusted at Lucius' actions and quite surprised at Malfoy junior's tenacity.

"I… I didn't know that, Albus. And he's… turning around? Again?"

"Again." I reaffirmed. "I have no doubt that when he goes home, his father will wipe out all the progress we have made, but I also have no doubt that young Malfoy will continue to doubt until he is given enough time to defend himself from his father."

"But… but what if…?"

"Then that is no loss to us – having him on our side is not imperative to our cause, but if we can save one more person from Voldemort, then so much the better."

She nodded, and we entered the Great Hall for breakfast. Harry's dorm-mates scurried over to the staff table and fired questions at Minerva, all of which she answered ably without giving out any details.

"Mr. Potter is certainly a surprising student…" She muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

I smiled benignly. "So it seems. In the past four months, we've had more excitement than in the previous ten _years_," I joked, half-serious.

"His… allergies. Will the potions really be able to help him?"

"I'm quite sure they'll take the sting off of the rashes… but there is little that can be done about the root of the problem. Perhaps the Muggles might be able to find a way, but there a few genetic scientists that just happen to be wizards or witches. None, I must say…"

She seemed disappointed – we both were, in fact. If the brother of the Boy-Who-Lived suffered from such a debilitating condition, how could he possibly… hang on…

"_The Marked One's brother will light the way and he will become as ash, mourned by the birds of Ra._" I quoted, and Minerva looked at me puzzled, before her eyes widened as well. "We've always thought that line meant… meant he would become a phoenix. But…"

"…but vampires don't turn to ash or come back to life…" She finished, face paling at what this could possibly mean. "Does… does this…?"

"Perhaps it only means he has a phoenix as a familiar?"

"But… but a vampire's a _Dark Creature_! How could a phoenix…?"

"Or maybe he has a second form." I was grasping at straws here, and we both knew it. "Perhaps we should talk about this… later."

"…yes, _later_…" She agreed, shaken.

_The Marked One's brother will light the way and he will become as ash, mourned by the birds of Ra._ We had interpreted that line to mean that phoenixes would be involved, and that Harry would somehow be burned to ashes. The two phrases had been uttered as one sentence by the Seer, and had led us to believe that Harry would somehow be able to turn into a phoenix, even if no-one had ever had a phoenix as their Animagus form before. But this? A vampire?

It was as if I was a king of a land made of beliefs, and the very throne was shaking, threatening to collapse. What… what if _Harry_ was the Boy-Who-Lived? What if _Jeremy_ was the other in the prophecy?

Later, in my office, Minerva sat down nervously.

"We have to test Jeremy for his Animagus form." I said without preamble, and she nodded.

We had to do this. We had to know. If somehow, such a great mistake had been made and we didn't rectify it, then who knew how badly the war could turn?

"I'll have Severus brew the tester."

I made to shake my head then thought the better of it. There was no reason for me to believe that anyone was certain to have an Animagus form. And if I was wrong, and if Jeremy didn't have one and I made him drink the Revealer-Unlocker? Then he would die and I would have chaos on my hands. "Certainly. We have no time to waste."

She looked at me oddly. "_No_ time?"

I nodded. "None. None at all." I repeated, and she nodded curtly and used my Floo connection to contact Severus.

We couldn't quite tell Severus that Harry's form was a vampire, but we managed to tell him enough about the rest of the situation that he agreed that Jeremy needed to be capable of performing an Animagus transformation as soon as possible. Minerva had to speak to Oliver Wood, the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, that Jeremy had to miss tonight's practice.

"But Professor-!"

"No buts, Mr. Wood. Mr. Potter is going to be indisposed tonight."

Oliver grumbled about how many nights Jeremy seemed 'unavailable' recently, but when Minerva reminded him that Jeremy was his best Seeker since Charlie Weasley – possibly even better – he gave up.

"What's going on, Professor?" Jeremy's impertinence seemed to be due to his having realised that the Headmaster of Hogwarts was actually 'approachable' and not a god.

"Insolent brat-!" Severus began, half moving towards spilling the goblet of potion he had brought. I looked at him pointedly and he subsided, setting the cup on my desk so as to minimise the temptation.

Harry sat in a corner, watching the proceedings with a nonchalant eye. His relaxed posture would seem to the unpractised eye as being highly awkward should someone come bursting through the door with the intent of causing bodily damage. To the trained eye, however, one would note that his hands were enveloped by the wide and slightly longer sleeves of his robes, probably in a position to release his wand from its holster. Then there was the fact that his sprawling position allowed him to smoothly roll and drop to the floor. All in all, Harry was sitting like Moody would have when he still had all of his limbs.

A part of me wondered where he had learned to do that, and why he had felt it was useful to train his body to subconsciously take that position whenever he was sitting still for any period of time. The brother of Jeremy Potter was turning out to be a very interesting individual.

"Since we've gotten the pair of you to a sufficient level of Occlumency, and Harry here learned how to perform an Animagus Transformation during the holidays-" Jeremy whipped his head around to look at Harry.

"Really? When'd you have the time to do _that_?"

"I can't tell you. My lips are sealed." Harry replied smoothly.

Jeremy blinked, becoming a little irate at his brother when he realised why his brother had chosen those specific words. "A Secret Oath?" Harry nodded. "Well, at least you can tell me your form!"

"Atlantean Vampire."

"There are species of vampire?" A pause. "You're a _vampire_!"

Harry sighed and looked away from his brother. "No, I'm not a vampire. My Animagus form's a vampire." He clarified.

Jeremy tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. "Um… I see?" He scratched his head. "What's an Atlantean Vampire, though?"

Had he been any other first year, Harry would have groaned exasperatedly. "It means that when I'm in my vampire form, I'm allergic to anyone who I won't consider prey. When I'm in human form, I'm just… intolerant of them. Like how Aunt Petunia's yeast intolerant."

Jeremy wrinkled his nose at Petunia's name, but he nodded in understanding. "I see…" Then he frowned. "But… why aren't you, well, breaking out in rashes right now? You're not seriously considering drinking our blood, are you!" His voice turned hysteric and he backed away from Harry.

This time, Harry really did groan. Severus and I were trying out best not to intrude into their little conversation – it certainly gave us a little insight into the relationship the twins had. "Do you seriously think the Wizarding World hasn't found a way to help people with allergies, let alone intolerances?"

Jeremy had stopped backing up, as he had bumped into the front of my desk. The dish with the lemon drops wobbled precariously, but I steadied them with a quick burst of wandless magic. Harry looked curiously at me, but then returned to looking rather patronisingly at his brother.

"Um… no?" Jeremy guessed, shrugging.

"Idiot boy… but then what can you expect – he _is_ his father's child." Severus muttered and Jeremy whirled around to glare at him.

He opened his mouth, but Severus continued. "Do remember your father became an Animagus in his fifth year. If you truly are your father's son…"

Jeremy's mouth clapped closed as his mind processed the comment that wasn't really an insult in the end, that was more a statement of Severus' high expectations of the boy rather than a compliment.

"I'm going to need Professor Snape and Jeremy to give me an oath to keep my form a secret. And that I'm an Animagus." Severus and Jeremy readily agreed, and then we took Jeremy through the Secret Oath form, as it was slightly different to the Promise Oath or the general Magical Contract Oath.

Finally… "This potion, Jeremy, will tell us if you're an Animagus. It would be best if… you were sitting in a chair when you drink it." I flicked my wand and a cushiony chair was conjured up. Jeremy picked up the goblet and sat down on the chair, which was actually a recliner.

Jeremy raised the cup in a silent toast, then drank deeply.

"Sweet dreams…" muttered Harry. "I hope." He added.

The goblet fell out of Jeremy's suddenly limp fingers, and I caught it with another burst of wandless magic, gently manoeuvring it back onto my desk.

Severus and Harry looked pointedly at me. Neither was really brave enough to accuse me of showing off, though.

Harry stood up from his chair and approached Jeremy, taking first his brother's pulse then checking if his eyes dilated properly. Tipping his head to one side, Harry listened to something then looked up at us. "He's asleep. Pulse is steady, breathing's regular. He'll be fine."

We nodded, with me being more sure thanks to the little monitoring devices scattered about my room that informed me as to the location, health and general mood of Jeremy Potter. There already were a few that did the same with Harry, although they seemed to have started to malfunction after Harry's trip to Malfoy Manor. In his report, he had informed me that Lucius had insisted he have some human blood – from a wizard, probably, though he wasn't sure of the gender – and blood from a magical creature (whether humanoid or not) was certain to change a vampire's core magical signature. That could be the only reason why all of the devices were failing, and I was quite sure Harry hadn't drunk from anybody since he had returned.

"Well, while Jeremy's asleep… Would you mind answering a few questions, Harry?"

"I can't promise to answer all of them, but those I do I'll answer truthfully."

"That's all we expect of you, my boy. Now… how have the potions helped your allergy?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes I get a little itchy, or my skin starts flaking, but it heals fast enough." Harry paused. "Although sometimes at mealtimes, I feel a little nauseous – must be all the people. Every so often, I feel a little dizzy."

"The potions should help with those dizzy spells – Professor Snape designed them to become increasingly effective the longer you took them. Eventually, you'll probably only need to take a dose every few months and just apply the balms in severe cases." Severus nodded, agreeing.

"Which reminds me, Mr. Potter – we're going to have to organise a time for you to learn how to brew them yourself. Are you taking any co-curricular activities?"

Harry shook his head – he wasn't even in the Gobstones club. "No, I'm just taking it… taking it 'easy' this first year. At least, that _had_ been my plan." He commented wryly.

I chuckled, and Severus smirked. "Well, since you seem to be doing _oh so well_ in your studies, perhaps we can spend an hour in the dungeons every night for… Remedial Potions."

Harry rolled his eyes at Severus' fake irascibility, but nodded nonetheless.

"What about his Accelerated Potions classes, Severus? Perhaps he could brew them for… extra credit?"

Snape pondered on that idea, then shook his head. "If the potions or the balms are to be used, they have to be treated and bottled on the spot – the other students might be a little _too_ curious as to where they go. Not to mention they might recognise the scent of the balms on him or the people in his dorm might realise what those morning potions are for. We can't afford to leave any loose ends, Albus." He glanced at Harry. "It is… _fortunate_ that Mr. Potter is intelligent enough to be able to skulk about unseen, even if it gives him free reign to wreak havoc in the castle."

I smiled serenely at him. "Very well, Severus. You know best, I'm sure."

The quite obvious ego patting didn't really puff him up all that much. We waited for another ten minutes for Jeremy to wake up, but still nothing happened, so I translocated a dish of sandwiches and a pewter pitcher of pumpkin juice into my office. Most people thought I was merely conjuring the food, and ate it assuming that their bodies wouldn't absorb anything from it. Unfortunately for them, it was _real_ food and I for one didn't need to lose weight. It was more like I needed to gain it, come to think of it.

"The elves make good food." Harry commented as he chewed on a toasted ham-and-cheese sandwich.

"So you noticed?" I was surprised – but then again, it was Harry who had the orb, who was slowly but surely figuring out the differences between all the branches of magic. He shrugged.

"Guessed. Conjured food always has this… aftertaste. And the detail's always lacking a little." He replied, and Severus looked vaguely impressed. It wasn't any ordinary wizard that could tell the difference between conjured food and real food just by taste – and even if Harry had enhanced senses, we doubted he'd had conjured food in quite a while, so he must have figured out the differences _before_ he awakened his Animagus form. That sort of talent generally resulted in them having just that little edge over others in the art of Potions, for they could tell the difference between whether _right now_ was the time to put in that next ingredient or whether the perfect moment was in twenty-five seconds.

The dish and pitcher kept refilling itself, until finally, two hours after he took the potion (it was around 9 o'clock), Jeremy stirred.

"Ungh…" he grunted, blinking his eyes rapidly to clear the sudden flush of tears that had appeared thanks to the light. "Mab's mother – that was _insane_." Jeremy finally muttered, sitting up.

"Well, we can tell you're an Animagus since you fainted-" ("Collapsed," muttered Jeremy) "-but as to what kind… well, I suppose we'll have to wait and see. Severus?"

Severus made a kind of noncommittal snort. "I have the potion set up and I had Alphabus – that's our Runes professor," he added when Jeremy and Harry looked vaguely confused. "-so I asked him to put up some runes in laboratory number seven, to accelerate the time. The potion should be finished by tomorrow."

"Excellent, Severus. Well, I suppose we should escort the Misters Potter back to their dorms. We wouldn't want a repeat of last term, would we?" The boys rolled their eyes while Severus let loose a long-suffering sigh.

"Are you implying you have _another_ precious artefact hidden in the school, Albus?"

"Perhaps I am – but that's for me to know, and you to… never find out!"

The others groaned and shook their heads exasperatedly. I took Jeremy up to Gryffindor Tower while Severus escorted Harry back to Ravenclaw Tower.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Jeremy looked up at me as we stood outside the entrance. The Fat Lady pretended to be asleep, although I could see her peeking out from under her lashes. Discreetly, I tapped several hidden 'buttons' – more like just specific areas – on the frame and the portrait and its neighbours all froze.

"Yes, my boy?"

He looked away from me and hesitated. "What would you do if I said… if I said I think Voldemort's dead?"

I frowned, then remembered that the only people that knew of Voldemort being involved in the Quirrell incident were Harry, the professors that had helped protect the Grail, Minister Fudge and myself. When Fudge had refused to say he believed me, I had made him give me a Secret Oath to prevent him from telling anyone else. Briefly, I had contemplated Obliviating him, but I realised it wouldn't take too much for a Memory Charm to be broken. I had also pressured the others to give Oaths, and I had given one to Harry as well.

Looking down at Jeremy, I realised that he had no way of knowing what had happened almost two months ago.

"I don't know, Jeremy. You're going to have to explain to me why you believe he's gone?" I decided to play along – who knows, perhaps Voldemort had somehow failed to find a body to possess.

"I tried to do some research on my scar, but since no-one's every survived the Killing Curse before, well… there wasn't any information at all." I nodded, prompting him to go on. "So then I had a look at what happens if curses backfire, especially Soul Magic ones. And 9 times out of 10, a connection of some kind is formed, generally one that connects the minds of those involved." I realised where he was going with his logic.

He continued. "When I was in my mind doing Occlumency exercises, I didn't find a single leak in there. And you know how the potion that checks if you can become an Animagus taps into your soul?" I nodded. "And even people that just get a little dizzy have visions of things that are closely related or connected to their souls, and people that get knocked _unconscious_ actually dream about it." He paused. "I didn't dream about Voldemort at all, I just dreamed about how one time mum and dad took us to Australia and we were on the beach."

What? If anything, this made me even more certain that Jeremy wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived. And the beach? Australia? _Australian beaches_ were – are – well known for the heat, for the sun.

Ra was the Ancient Egyptian god of the sun.

Not for the first time in my life, I felt the throne of beliefs and assumptions quiver, shake, then crumble completely.

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Author's Notes:

1. This chapter was a little bit of experimentation on my part to see if I can actually write from the point of view of somebody that's a heck of a lot older than myself and whose motivation beliefs and thought processes aren't that well described in canon. My opinion of this chapter is that I should just stick to people I can more easily relate to, like other teenagers.

2. Muggle medication – even if potions don't seem magical, there is magic in them. Just like how you should mix some types of medication with alcohol, certain types of magic just don't mix well. I'm assuming that the only part of the Wizarding World that doesn't mix well with Muggle things are purebloods and when excessive magic is around Muggle electronics.

3. The Better Portkey – you know the phrase 'a better mouse-trap'? And why the heck do people use a form of transportation that is definitely not recommended for old people with bad hips?

4. Vanus Vector – came up with a first name for Professor Vector, the Arithmancy teacher of Hogwarts

5. Allergy Potions and Balms – the potions help relieve the symptoms when exposed to one's allergies, and almost completely erase them if they are used to treat intolerances. The balms are to help disguise and treat the rashes.

6. Genetics – if you can isolate the gene(s) that cause an allergy/intolerance, the chances of curing it become increasingly higher. Unfortunately for Harry, there aren't any Muggle geneticists that would be willing to figure out what makes the Atlantean Vampire allergic to non-prey.

7. Petunia – I'm just making her yeast intolerance up, don't take it as gospel.

8. Core Magical Signature – think of a person using a wand like someone using a gun with a silencer. The gun barrel isn't entirely smooth and the bullet has a type of 'signature' marked onto the surface, and then it enters the silencer, where another pattern is marked on. The core magical signature is just the first pattern, meaning that people that use wandless magic leave traces of their core pattern when they do magic. For many reasons, the Ministry records both the first and second pattern (although the second pattern might change if someone 'acquires' a new wand). Ingesting and absorbing some of the magic of someone else would change the core signature somewhat, depending on how much you absorb.

9. Translocation – a real word, meaning "to move somebody or something from one place or position to another".

10. Conjuring – creating items from magic. Since magic doesn't actually contain any nutrients or energy (in the Muggle sense), people don't gain sustenance from eating conjured foods (unless they can somehow absorb the magic, but even then it only adds to their magic). If only I could conjure food, then I'd never gain weight from eating all those 'snacks'.

11. Alphabus – Albert Alphabus (completely original name) is the Runes professor of Hogwarts.

Well, looks like Jeremy has been thinking and it'll certainly be interesting if he still thinks Voldemort's dead when he returns. The political clout of being the Boy-Who-Lived and the 'expert knowledge' of Voldemort will only make Fudge's case that 'Voldemort's Dead!' even more believable… But that's only if Jeremy's still in the dark when the time rolls round!

Coming up next, the return to the HPoV (Harry Point of View).


	13. 13 R&R

**Desiring Other Times**

Chapter 13 – R&R

Disclaimer: If I were to walk onto the streets and loudly proclaim that I was J. K. Rowling and that I owned Harry Potter, no-one would believe me. In fact, the only people that would pay attention to me would be gullible idiots and children.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

_I may come across as an excessively bookish sort of person, but how many of those Quidditch types could say they could best me in a duel? How many of them could say they could outrun me on a 100m track? An 800m track? The Wizarding World encourages people to be lazy, to be completely and utterly unfit – even Quidditch is more a sport than a form of exercise. _

_In the Muggle world, I would merely be seen as somebody that understood the benefits of focussing on both the mind and body. _

_The wizards are fools, I say. _

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Concentrate on the change, jab your wand at the box, whirl the tip widdershins through three-quarters of a circle, jab again, then say '_Figura cambire_'."

The sounds of a classroom full of First Years all trying out the incantation echoed through the stone room, and McGonagall tried her best not to sigh exasperatedly. I rolled my eyes – Dean Thomas hadn't yet learned that 'widdershins' meant counter-clockwise – jabbed my wand at the little wooden box, swished the tip through three-quarters of a circle, jabbed again and silently enunciated the spell.

Transfiguration had always been a little more difficult than the other subjects to do silently, as you had to focus on both the intended change _and_ the spell. Wandless and silent transfiguration – wandless and silent _anything_, really – was beyond me. It would probably always _be_ beyond me, as it would take far more than a vampire Animagus form and a little talent to get as far as Voldemort and Dumbledore had. It was truly a pity that the old blood always tended to be stronger. Not to mention there were fewer laws to break back then, and blood rituals, body/magic altering potions and such-like had probably not become illegal in their days, if not widely accepted.

A shimmer – like a mirage – surrounded the box I was transfiguring, and I focussed on the box changing into a small statuette of a typical Muggle dragon. _Focus, focus, focus!_, I chanted to myself, and the box…!

Burst into flames.

"Damn," I cursed under my breath and went to get another box. This time, I didn't push so hard with my magic, and the box smoothly changed into the intended shape.

"Excellent work, Mr. Potter." McGonagall murmured softly. "Five points to Ravenclaw!" she declared, and the other students turned around to try and look at what I had transfigured my box into.

"Pretty," Lisa cooed, and the boys rolled their eyes. "But it is!" She insisted, and Padma nodded vigorously, agreeing.

"A pity the transfiguration only lasts for a bit – it _is_ kinda cool looking." commented Felran. "I wish they'd teach us Transmutation." He added wistfully, again unsuccessfully trying to transfigure his box.

"Mr. Chase, there are few enough Alchemists left on this planet for them to waste their time trying to teach a castle full of students that probably won't have the talent needed to learn. If you wish to learn Transmutation, then wait until you graduate and see if you qualify for an Apprenticeship." chided McGonagall, and I rolled my eyes.

Who needed to be an Alchemist when you had the Holy Grail? Sure, it was probably more efficient if you didn't have to carry around a cupful of water everywhere, and only need a piece of chalk and a surface to Transmute things, but that was still more troublesome than other, more conventional magics.

Well? A voice hissed into my mind.

I glanced up at the smoky ghost of the Other-Harry.

Well what? I asked him.

Are you _still_ sure you don't want to fuse? If we had, you would've been able to transfigure that on the first go. He pointed out.

You misunderstand the typical Ravenclaw mind – we find the _accomplishing_ more rewarding than the actual accomplishment. I have no desire to learn things without working just that little bit for it.

It wouldn't be any different to what you did with Flitwick.

Yes it would – I still had to work to get the info from Flitwick, to unpack the whole damn lot and to sort them out. With… with _this_, I wouldn't have to work at all!

But it's close enough – _you_ didn't have to learn what Flitwick did. You took advantage of his vulnerability. At least this time I'm giving you permission to take what I know. He argued, trying to poke holes at my resolve.

Isn't it enough that I managed to use the Holy Grail to give you a temporary body?

The Other-Harry snarled. I can't _help_ anyone like this, goddammit! I can only watch as everything goes to hell!

I frowned. Are you so full of yourself that you think that only with your help can Voldemort be defeated? Are you really that _arrogant_! I demanded, and he had the grace to look chagrined.

That's not it. It's… look, I can't stand watching things happen when I know that if I change them, I could be saving us a heck of a lot of trouble down the road.

This isn't even your universe – things are already different here, so how do you know that what you do won't make it worse? And haven't you heard of the Butterfly Effect?

The Other-Harry puffed out a sigh. If we merge, then there'll be enough of your mind there to keep my half in check. And considering this is your body, your universe, your mind will eventually get supremacy of… of 'us'.

I can't trust you, you know. Even if you say you're Harry Potter, you look more like my brother and we're not even alike in personality. I mean, you ended up in _Gryffindor_ while I ended up in Ravenclaw. We're not the same, and probably won't ever believe you.

He sighed. What is it they say? 'Don't knock it until you've tried it'? Please. Trust me. I can help.

What use is having all that knowledge when I can't get out of here earlier? It'll only drive me stir crazy, you know. I argued, and he flinched. They don't let students early graduation until sixth year, and that's if they take their NEWTs in sixth. Remember that officially, I'm not the Boy-Who-Lived so I don't really have an excuse to need to go and become apprenticed to, I don't know, the necromancer that lives down the road.

You're more worried about how _bored_ you'll be than being able to save people? He was incredulous, and I knew that for the first time, the Other-Harry really began to question his decision of going into another dimension.

I'm not a bloody Gryffindor – I'm not recklessly _brave_, I'm _intelligent_. Trying to save those idiots – you know how you told me about that smear campaign the Ministry ran against you? Well, what's the point of saving people that don't know you? That don't care about you unless you're going to save their sorry skins?

You shouldn't hold that against the others that _do_… that _would_ support you.

Jeremy's the Boy-Who-Lived, remember. I'm just the brother that's supposedly going to die. Nobody's going to cheering for that, really, unless I've managed to make some enemies while I wasn't looking.

He looked sharply at me. You've been extremely careful about that, haven't you? Other-Harry commented.

What do you mean by _that_? Are you accusing me of kissing ass? Because I haven't.

Then what do you call going to Malfoy Manor? If I recall correctly, you're not 'recklessly brave', so what was _your_ reason to go? He pointed out smugly, trying to turn my argument against me.

If you must know, I went because it seemed intriguing. And because it was something to do during the holidays.

People say that about picking up a _hobby_, not walk into a potentially fatal situation! So what were you _really_ doing?

Seeing what they were doing. And because I needed to get away from the castle for awhile.

Curiosity killed that cat, mister. And that's called going from the frying pan into the fire. Other-Harry shot back.

Well, I didn't get burned – moving my Animagus schedule forward several months was worth it. And what _is it_ with you and cliché old wives' proverbs?

Other-Harry shrugged. Generally, people get the idea of what I'm trying to say. And you were only lucky that Lucius didn't bother to pry into your mind – I suppose he was too busy looking into other minds while you were there. But what's to stop him the next time you go?

Who says I'm going to go again? I retorted.

You joined their group. You have to go back. Or at least visit, if not stay. He pointed out, and I conceded that he was completely and utterly correct.

And just how will your presence save me from any danger? I answered snidely, bringing the conversation back to the topic Other-Harry had been bugging me about ever since he'd arrived.

Do you really think you could take Lucius on in a fight and win? And be able to finish him off quickly enough that there aren't any witnesses like say, Draco?

I hesitated. _Do you seriously think that after a few months in this place you'll be able to take on someone that's spent almost seven years in a school like Hogwarts?_ Moody's words echoed about my mind, wrapping and constricting about the confidence I had in my abilities. Malfoy senior had never been one to follow the law, and he had – if rumour proved true, which it probably was – served under Voldemort, so it was only to be expected that he had also started to walk down the path of Magical enhancement.

Here's something else I haven't told you, Harry. Other-Harry spoke up, interrupting my thoughts. I looked up at him, the little transfigured statuette from earlier in my palm.

What? I prompted.

I can teach you some Parsel Magic. I can tell you where the Chamber of Secrets is. Slytherin never let any of his books leave his castle or the library in the Chamber, nor did he allow for them to be copied. Draco won't ever learn Parsel Magic and if your Voldemort is anything like mine, he didn't get the time to explore the Chamber properly, and Slytherin's property was added to the Gryffindor assets when Gryffindor slew him. Here, Other-Harry seemed to become even more serious, even more stern. Slytherin Castle is one of the properties that the main heir to the Gryffindor line inherits – your father should be that heir, and your brother will become that heir, until his death. Of course, if he has a child before he dies then they'll inherit, but if not… then you will.

I rolled my eyes. Is it just me or is this all sounding a little… unrealistic? And I mean, why are you trying to make me feel _good_ that my brother's going to die, and to hope that he never has any children? That's not particularly Gryffindor-like, is it?

It may sound unrealistic, but to Muggles, magic is unrealistic. Prophecies are unrealistic, even to most of the Wizarding World. Everything your life is practically guaranteed to be unrealistic. He replied matter-of-factly.

But that's more like I deserve to have some moments of realism in my life! Some sense of reality! I shouted in my mind.

Is that why you're refusing my offer? He commented shrewdly. Because you feel like if you let this happen, your life will irrevocably become like something out of a fiction book?

I looked away, and he seemed to think it answer enough. So you think it'll all be fine even if people die, just as long as you think things are real enough? Is that what you want? People to be murdered because you couldn't – _wouldn't_ allow for your life to become unreal?

You don't have to say it like that. And anyway, what's wrong with just having me get you a new body? I mean, I'm almost finished making it… I muttered mutinously.

How are you going to explain my sudden appearance into this world?

Fake some papers? I suggested, and he sighed.

The Wizarding World may seem a little more archaic than the Muggle world, but it still has its good points. And it is _extremely difficult_ – nigh impossible, in fact – to fake papers. To create a false identity. He explained with whatever bit of patience he had left.

Well, what's wrong with that? I mean, why _do_ you have to be known in the Wizarding World? Isn't it better if you just head off, kill Voldemort, then, I don't know, wander around? Make a new life?

I left my world so I could be back with my friends. I didn't leave it to end up in a foreign land and have to make a new life – which I could have done back in my world! He almost shouted, and I grimaced.

Well, it's not like I hang around with Hermione or Ron much. So why don't I make you a body that's about twelve, say you're an orphan that was home-schooled and have you enter the school next year? What's wrong with that?

Dumbledore would poke around for magical parents that had recently died. And that'd be too easy for him to figure out. He pointed out. Some Ravenclaw you are.

Well, why don't you tell Dumbledore and he can help? I wondered not for the first time why I hadn't told Dumbledore myself.

Because he can't be trusted. Because he is as stubborn as a mule and anything he hasn't planned for must be removed. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore will never _ever_ allow for my existence to continue. He was completely and utterly certain of this, and it showed in the way he spoke, in a tone that brooked no argument.

So why should I? Why should I help you? I mean, Dumbledore's- McGonagall swooped past my corner of the classroom and I hurried to get another box and proceed to transfigure it. –Dumbledore's the one who got rid of Grindelwald, even if people say he was just the only person to survive. He's still incredibly wise-

That's code for _old_, Harry. He's getting old, he's not so willing to bend when he should bend. Trust me when I say that Dumbledore will be killed because he refuses to give up on things he should just let go of.

I narrowed my eyes and tried to distract myself by transfiguring my new box into a simplified model of Hogwarts castle. But then I remembered that the Founders could have embedded a hidden design into the very castle itself, and decided that it probably wasn't safe to try it inside of a Transfiguration class.

For the rest of the class, Other-Harry didn't say another word. The bell rang and I exited into the quickly crowding corridor, with the ghostly figure – visible only to me – trailing behind me. Some of the ethereal Hogwarts ghosts seemed to pause and look about if Other-Harry travelled too closely to them, but they never seemed to realise that the 'disturbance' was somebody unseen.

You know, I seriously do not believe that you have the Grail hidden well enough. Where the words first out of his mouth when he decided to start talking again.

I scowled at him, moving through the many wards I had set about the Grail. A similar set protected the sphere, but it was in another compartment of my trunk.

That's what you think. These aren't the only things that are protecting the Grail.

His eyes widened. Really? I didn't see them – and I should have, I can sense magic like you can.

It's not just magic protecting this. There's normal Muggle traps as well.

The light of curiosity in his eyes died. Is that all? That's hardly an improvement.

I snorted. The typical wizard or witch wouldn't know what hit them.

I suppose. He conceded grudgingly.

I looked up at him, pausing in my work on the faux body I was working on. You're not going to say you could help with protecting these things? I was a little surprised at his unexpected restraint.

He shrugged, misty shoulders rising and falling a little eerily. The coloured fog his body seemed to be made of refracted the light so that what I could see 'through' him didn't quite match up to what I saw to the sides of him – it was like he was a hologram that didn't have a source and was aware of its surroundings.

It's no point arguing with you – you seem quite intent on playing Devil's Advocate where I'm concerned.

I snorted and rolled my eyes. And _I_ suppose that you think that by saying that, you've proved you're not as stubborn as the Dumbledore in your world?

Other-Harry shrugged again. If it works, it works. If it doesn't… He smiled wryly. …then I try and find another way of getting the point across.

I shook my head. You're hopeless, you know?

His face twisted into an expression I couldn't quite place. I was. But then I came here.

Other-Harry's simple words seemed to stab and twist at my emotions in a manner far more moving than his sophistic spiels. And I knew that those words were his attempt at reaching out for my human nature. A final desperate call to whatever vestiges of general good will and the scraps of heart he believed I still possessed.

_Goddammit, the man knows how to argue…_

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Author's Notes: This was an exposition chapter, and also a kind of interlude as we move onto the next arc.

1. R&R – While you may recognise that as 'Read & Review', the title is meant as 'Rest & Recreation', the military shortening.

2. Figura – figure, form, shape. Cambire – 'exchange', root of Late Latin 'cambiare', which was root of Old French 'changer'. Entire spell 'Figura Cambire' means 'Shape Change' or similar. Original spell.

3. Widdershins – a real word, meaning anti-clockwise, against the sun. In literary terms, it sometimes means 'against sense' or 'against nature'.

4. Has anyone's parents ever said 'When I was your age, I knew all the names of the Presidents' or something similar? Well, back when they were our age, there weren't so many presidents! In this case, back in the old days, some laws were stricter (like how England deported you for stealing a loaf of bread), and some didn't exist at all.

5. Transmutation, Alchemy – I'm taking my cue from Full Metal Alchemist, where you need to draw alchemy circles to transmute things. The Philosopher's Stone was the pinnacle of Alchemy, as it was capable of bending the rules of 'Exact Exchange' – which is a modified kind of conservation of energy theory.

6. Parsel Magic – it's been decided: this exists. In Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Riddle says 'I knew it wouldn't be safe to open the Chamber again while I was still at school', and this was right after he killed the first and last student with the Basilisk. I'm gathering that Riddle was quite ruthless in his Hogwarts years, and had he had the time to go exploring in the Chamber, he would also have killed several students, not just one. Hence: Riddle and Draco won't know much Parsel Magic, if at all.

7. Realism – many Harry Potter fanfictions have a tendency to have overly powered characters (particularly Harry), as the rather plot-hole ridden canon along with 'the power the Dark Lord knows not' kind of leave things wide open for unimaginative and/or inexperienced writers to have Super-Harrys running around. Unfortunately, I can't say I fall into the category of inexperienced, and hence I quite sadly fall into the 'unimaginative' sector. I've tried my best to be a little more realistic, but trying to model it on canon means I have a mixture of Book Six strength (like Snape's incredible formidability) and Book One simplicity. This results in rather unrealistic plots, but as time goes on, you won't even notice! wink wink

The next chapter heralds the beginning of the Chamber of Secrets arc! What on earth…? The Diary makes an appearance, but not in the hands of Ginny Weasley! Not in the hands of a Ravenclaw! Also happening soon is a murder and Sirius Black escapes from Azkaban!


	14. 14 Chaos

**Desiring Other Times**

Chapter 14 – Chaos

Disclaimer: No, I don't own Harry Potter.

A/N: Review quickly so I can make sure I don't make any drastic mistakes while writing in the holidays.

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"There. Finished." I wearily grinned at the prone faux body I had finally completed. Other-Harry whirled about in the air, still unhappy that I wouldn't fuse with him, but glad enough that at least I had found a way for him to fiddle with this world.

Are you sure you won't change your mind? He tried one last time.

I glared at him. Yes, I'm sure. Now get in there.

He shook his head. I'll wait a bit, see if you change your mind. A lot of things can happen in a week.

You're going to be annoying me for another _week_? I shouted at him, and he winced.

Look, just… it's kind of, I don't know, really weird. And we're not sure if it'll work – I mean, it's not even alive.

I shrugged. It's the only way I'm getting you something to possess. Unless you feel like possessing someone else.

The argument continued as I climbed out of my trunk, went to get my textbooks for Charms and even until I entered the classroom.

…and shut up, I have to listen. I told Other-Harry, and for some reason, he smirked.

Oh? I thought you said you knew everything already? His voice was challenging.

I glared at him, then proceeded to ignore him.

By the end of the class, he had shut up, and I was feeling a little peaky. I took a little detour to the Hospital Wing to get some Pepper Up Potion, and was heading off to my next class when people started screaming.

"What the…?"

"It's a _Basilisk! _In the corridors! RUN!" Some random fifth year screamed at me, and my mouth fell wide open.

A _basilisk_? 

Other-Harry seemed worried. This never happened in my world. Sure, there was a Basilisk, but it never got into the corridors. Never mind that, just run, goddammit!

I did, and joined some other students and staff that had barricaded themselves in the Hospital Wing.

"What on earth is a basilisk doing in the castle?"

"Did it kill anyone?"

The questions flew thick and fast, but no-one knew the answers. Several hours on, a house-elf popped into the Hospital Wing, startling us all. It proceeded to dither and stutter, until we finally realised it was telling us all to congregate in the Great Hall on the orders of 'Great Wizard Dumbledore'. Slowly and nervously, we proceeded to the Great Hall, where the rest of the school was gathering.

Halfway there, on the third corridor, I heard a hissing.

_Come, let me tassste your blood, let me eat you, let me rip you to piecesssss… _it hissed, getting closer and closer, when…

Screams. I could hear the people around me screaming, shouting, and my eardrums – enhanced as they were – popped painfully, I could feel the blood running down the sides of my face…

"Help!"

"RUN!"

"Basilisk! Nooo!"

My eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and I brought my wand out, pointed it at the direction where the hissing was coming from when…

_Turn around, and wait. There issss sssomeone here I do not want you to kill._ A familiar voice hissed, and the basilisk answered.

_Yesss, massster._

The sounds of something heavy shifting and sliding, and then…

"Potter? It's safe to open your eyes." Draco called to me, and I realised then that Other-Harry was parroting the words to me in my mind, because I couldn't hear a single thing through my burst eardrums.

I opened my eyes, and saw the giant snake in the corridor, bent around at the middle so it faced the other direction. Draco was looking rather proud of himself, and he carried a small diary.

There is a… a ghost behind him, like me. Other-Harry whispered at me, and my eyes widened.

Really? Who is it? Can they see you?

Other-Harry shook his head. For some reason, it is extremely weak. And I do not know who it is.

"I've opened the Chamber of Secrets, Potter! All the mudbloods are as good as dead now," he spat gleefully. "Get out of here, now. I don't want to have to kill you – after all, you're still useful."

I narrowed my eyes, and winced as my eardrums began piecing themselves back together, slowly but surely. Around me were the prone forms of my fellow students.

All of them were dead.

"Forget it, _Draco_."

I lifted my wand, his mouth swung open in surprise and I cried "_Explodere Metiri_!"

And all hell broke loose.

Bright purple light gathered at the tip of my wand, then split in half, one part shooting straight at Draco and the Basilisk, the other half going the opposite way. The whole hallway exploded with dust and blood and bits of snake flesh, but that was the least of my problems.

Pain, there was pain and blood and the ground shook and everything went blurry but not the pain, not the pain. Shit, shit, shit. This wasn't supposed to happen! No! Fuck, my arm! No!

"GAAH!" I screamed, "Shit! _SHIT!_" I crumpled to the ground, as pain lanced through my entire body, burning and ripping and rending, like hot steel wires wrapped about and around my flesh, searing through it all. Blood pooled around me, mostly from my arm but also from the wounds that ripped their way across my skin. As I landed on the ground, more burning, aching agony tore through my body, as the fractured and shattered bones in my body hit the ground hard.

"…fuck…" I managed to murmur when all went black.

"…is he going to be okay?"

"…condition is severe…"

"I don't want him to die, please, save him, please, _you have to save him!_"

"He might not live."

"Wake up, please, Harry, wake up. Don't die on me. I can't have my child die before me!"

"…he isn't going to die! I don't believe you!"

The pain was back, arching, throbbing, torturous agony. My body oozed physical torment as it leaked blood. I tried to speak, but then somebody forced a foul-tasting potion down my throat and I was unconscious once again.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Harry lay in the bed, completely wrapped in bandages, like a mummy. Madam Pomphrey had been able to remove all the dust and grit that had gotten into his eyes, so the likelihood that Harry would wake up blind had gone down dramatically. That was the least of anyone's worries though, as Harry's body continued to refuse to heal, the many wounds across his body staining his bandages into a crimson that Pomphrey had to change them five times a day.

The severed arm had been the worst – it wasn't even severed, it was more like it had exploded into nothingness, leaving behind a jagged wound that still fairly reeked of magic.

"He should have healed by now." said Professor McGonagall to Professor Dumbledore.

He sighed heavily. "I know."

"But why isn't he? Why is it that he could still _die_?" Her voice grew steadily frantic.

"I don't know, Minerva. I don't know."

A door swinging open, footsteps. "I do." said a voice. The two professors turned towards the voice.

"Severus?"

A heavy sigh. "He's lost his magic."

Silence.

He's lost his magic.

His magic.

Lost.

"…n… no…" A weak voice broke the silence, and the three professors whipped their heads around to look at Harry.

He stirred, then choked off a scream. "Mr. Potter? Here, take this potion, it will help with the pain." Pomphrey moved to pour a potion down his throat.

"M… my… my magic…" Potion dripped out of his mouth and soaked into his bandages, which were quickly staining red as he continued to move.

"Mr. Potter!" Pomphrey pulled out her wand, ready to cast a spell on him that would make him swallow when she poured the potion in again.

"It's gone, Harry." Dumbledore replied as Pomphrey force-fed Harry the potion. "I'm… I'm sorry."

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_Each of us as he receives his private trouncings at the hands of fate is kept in good heart by the moth in his brother's parachute, and the scorpion in his neighbour's underwear._

_Simonides_

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"What happened? What kind of spell could have made this happen?" demanded James Potter.

Flitwick twitched guiltily. "I… It seems your son… for lack of a better word, _copied_ the information I had stored in my Occlumency ward. False information for the most part. And he tried a spell I had in there, which was a kind of… a kind of _modified_ suicide spell that I had labelled as merely being a destructive art."

James and Lily gaped at him, as did the others present.

"You _knew_ he had that inside his head and… and you didn't _tell_ him?" bellowed James, trying to swipe at Flitwick but being held back by Remus. Sirius had been restrained by Hagrid, and Lily seemed too shocked to do anything.

"…I had no idea he would try using those spells."

"That's not good enough! You knew those boys were going to go into the war! You knew he was supposed to buy time for Jeremy! You… you…" screamed James, finally breaking down into tears. "…you _knew_…"

"I'm sorry." Were the hollow words Flitwick offered, but it only served to make Lily and James cry even harder. Sirius howled, struggling against Hagrid's hold, and Remus seemed frozen like a statue. He of all people had most need of keeping his emotions in control, but this… this was stretching even his famed control.

"…it was your fault, your fault… all your fault…"

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"You could have stopped him!" Jeremy shouted at the ghostly figure before him. "You could've told him the spell wasn't right!"

Other-Harry stared at floor, downcast, depressed. I didn't know he was going to use a spell he hadn't verified. I had no idea.

Jeremy screamed something unintelligible, threw the water jug across the room and heard it shatter. It didn't help soothe the gaping hole he could practically _feel_ in his chest, and he let loose with another pain-filled roar. The glass windows shuddered, vibrated, then burst into tiny motes of dust. Cupboards flung themselves about the room, and the chairs smashed themselves against the walls.

"Mr. Potter…!" cried somebody as they opened the door to see what all the noise was about. "Calm yourself!" The Auror was completely caught off guard when Jeremy flung himself against him, hitting at the man's chest with his flailing arms and bawling.

"Why? Why Harry? Tell me!"

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_Still falls the Rain– _

_Dark as the world of man, black as our loss– _

_Blind as the nineteen hundred and forty nails _

_Upon the Cross._

_Edith Sitwell_

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Author's Notes: So lots of people complained that Harry was getting too powerful for his own good. Honestly, these people have no faith that I can pull a decent plot twist out of my ass. Ok, so maybe I've never been a good writer, but I've gotten better, dammit!

1. Basilisk – Draco is infinitely less likely than Ginny to go against Riddle's plan, and he was going to take it to a much further extent than what Riddle had planned. Hence, Basilisk in the hallways.

2. Ghost – Other-Harry is actually like Horcrux-Riddle. Pretty much the same, really, except Other-Harry is at maximum 'strength'.

3. Explodere – Latin root for explode, meaning 'drive off the stage by clapping'. Metiri – Latin for 'measure', which was root of the Old English word 'mete', meaning 'food', which was in turn, the root for the modern English word 'meat'.

This was a lot different to my previous chapters in that the perspective changed a lot, and there were random texts in the middle. While I'm writing this fanfiction, I'm slowly experimenting with writing style, so if it flops, tell me, if it was good, tell me.


	15. 15 Alignment

**Desiring Other Times**

Chapter 15 – Alignment

Disclaimer: You've read all the previous disclaimers (I hope), so you should know by now that… I don't own Harry Potter.

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_Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, _

_And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer; _

_Willing to wound and yet afraid to strike, _

_Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike._

_Alexander Pope_

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"He hates us, doesn't he?"

"…I wouldn't say that, not really."

"Then what? Whenever he looks at us, whenever he comes back home, he's just… he's just so _bitter_!"

"Anyone who has lost their magic, anyone who had had so much promise as he did, well… I wouldn't believe you if you said he wasn't bitter about it at all. But he doesn't hate us, Jeremy."

"Don't lie to me." The reply was harsh, and the victim recoiled. "He hates us, I know it. He hates us for bringing him back, for saving him."

"That's not it, that's not it at all. I'm sure he'll… he'll become accustomed to living like a Muggle. Like a Squib."

"He won't. I know it. A Squib never had any magic and Harry, and… oh gods, why him? Why him?" A fear tears, quickly wiped away with a swift sleeve. "And he's never going to get used to it if he keeps coming back home to see Matthew and all the 'accidental' magic he keeps doing. I mean, his… _our_ little brother, not even out of the crib, but has more magic than him! He's never going to forgive us, for making him live like this."

The uncomfortable silence stretched on. Jeremy was leaning against the window sill, and picked mechanically at the rubber seal around the window frame. Other-Harry stood behind him, also looking out the window and down into the street. Moments ago, Harry had swept out of the house (albeit a little awkwardly, as not all of his wounds had healed entirely and the loss of his right arm put his balance off) with a face full of thunder, and had strode down the footpath and away. The garden gate still swung loosely on its hinges, from the force with which he had flung it open.

It had taken almost a year for the wounds on Harry's body to heal – the magic in the lacerations across his body and the jagged wound at his shoulder had resisted all attempts to speed up the process. He had been hooked up to an IV drip that had been customized that the Blood Replenishing Potions that ran through it wouldn't corrode the system, but that had been the best they could do for Harry James Potter. The Healers at St. Mungo's had been horrified at first, but gradually became inured to the terrible injuries Harry had suffered. The media had had a field day – a field _month_, really – but even that died down when everyone realised what had happened.

Hogwarts had lost a great many students (and a few staff) with the Basilisk attack, but since all but one of the people that had been present when Draco had appeared with the Basilisk were dead, Lucius Malfoy had managed to clear the charges placed posthumously on his son. It certainly hadn't helped the prosecution when all knew that the Potters had never really liked the Malfoys, even if Harry and Draco seemed to have been ready to change all that. The key word, of course, was _have_.

Harry would never deal with the likes of Lucius Malfoy again, as he was now as good as a Squib. And his situation probably made him 'worse' than a Muggleborn wizard or witch, some would say, as it was as if Magic had tested him and found him wanting. Harry had spiralled into depression, and no amount of Cheering Charms or Positive Potions helped.

Lily took him to a Muggle psychiatrist, one who had graduated from Hogwarts but had found working in a Muggle vocation more satisfying. Whether it was truly more psychologically satisfying or if the few jobs the Wizarding World offered to Muggleborns generally tended to be low-paying, Lily wasn't sure, but if the existence of someone that had chosen the Muggle world over the Wizarding could make Harry feel less depressed that he now had to 'make do' with the Muggle world… then so much the better. The psychiatrist listened patiently, then prescribed him a complex cocktail of antidepressants.

Harry refused to take them, so Lily and James – and sometimes Jeremy – took turns at slipping the drugs into his food or drink. Snape had helpfully taken the drugs, analysed them, then made a potion form of them that certainly couldn't be detected by someone with no magic. Sometimes Matthew distracted Harry for a bit – even if it tended to make Harry angry at him – and they could do it without him suspecting a thing like he normally did.

Matthew was inordinately intelligent at his age, and had begun showing bursts of accidental magic by the time his first birthday came round – one year and three months after Harry had been injured. James and Lily had been planning the third baby for a while, and had wanted the child to have its birthday sometime during the holidays so that they could all celebrate its birthday together at home. Until Harry's 'accident' had happened, and the birth of little Matthew Aster Potter had not brought as much joy as they had thought it would.

Around the time Matthew started showing early signs of magic, Harry loudly announced that he was going to attend Eton College. James and Lily had hopefully taken this as a sign that he was getting back onto his feet (figuratively speaking), and happily used their contacts to ensure his entry. They bought his uniform, his books, everything, and even arranged for tutors to help him catch up to his Muggle counterparts.

Harry had let them 'help'. Then he disappeared off to Eton as a colleger rather than an oppidans, much to the disappointment of Lily and James. Going to Eton College to visit him was only oh so much harder than 'coincidentally' meeting him on the streets of Eton the city.

Jeremy had returned to Hogwarts and came back home to Godric's Hollow every holiday, and the Potter parents had been allowed to take shorter hours to look after their children.

Today was a little more than two years since the accident, and the way Harry had just _changed_ – the loss of his magic, his arm, the irritated amiability he had presented to everyone – made it seem like Harry had died, yet still lived. The constant agony of the situation continued to tear at the hearts and minds of all that had known him, no matter how far they ran from England.

The Patil twins and their extended family completely uprooted themselves from England and returned to India. Hermione Granger's parents had sent her off to a school in the United States that taught a Muggle curriculum on top of their Magic classes – even if it meant she graduated later than the people in Hogwarts, she would still capable of moving between the two worlds with great ease. Justin Finch Fletchley was pulled entirely out of the Wizarding World and was packed off to Eton as well, where he had been planning to go until he had received his letter.

Harry had not taken the boy's presence well, but when the fact that Justin's wand had been snapped and he had been forbidden to return to the Wizarding World was brought up, he was no longer as aggressively intolerant of Justin's presence. Of course, he still hated Justin because he reminded Harry of all that had been, but Harry was no longer as confrontational about it.

There were other children, other families, that were affected by Draco Malfoy's actions. Some died, others were Petrified (those lucky few that had been looking indirectly at the Basilisk), and still others were psychologically damaged at the shock and the loss of so many people. None of those families were as hard hit as the Potter family – living in their family was a ghost of someone they remembered, someone they loved. Somebody who had died and had been replaced by a stranger.

Other-Harry had managed to possess the fake body in time to retrieve all the treasures Harry had possessed, all in order that the Ministry not get their hands on it. The sphere, however, had disappeared, and had later been found in the possession of Jeremy, who claimed that it had popped into existence around the time Harry performed his final spell. The Grail, however, Other-Harry continued to hide. He had created another body, and had possessed it, then pulled enough strings in the right places (probably through a lot of blackmail) to gain him entry into Hogwarts.

Other-Harry posed as Henry Gates, a transfer from a Wizarding school in Northern Europe. From there, he had tricked the Sorting Hat, placed himself in Gryffindor and slowly worked his way into Jeremy's good graces. With Harry having lost his magic, everyone who had doubted Jeremy's 'position' as the Chosen One had felt extremely foolish.

Dumbledore, for one, had pondered long and hard about the discrepancies in the prophecy, when he discovered the only possible solution. They had always thought that Harry, being the brother and 'lighting the way', meant that he would travel down the path that would lead to Voldemort's defeat, and inevitably _buy the Chosen One time._ So what if Harry really was the Boy-Who-Lived, and he _had_ bought time by defeating Voldemort the first time round, but the Chosen One who would _vanquish_ Voldemort, the one who _kill_ him, once and for all, what if he and the Boy-Who-Lived were two different people?

What if Harry was the Boy-Who-Lived and Jeremy was the Chosen One? It was entirely probable, and explained why Jeremy's scar hadn't been connected to Voldemort at all. In one of Dumbledore's visits into Harry's mind after he lost his magic, he had discovered all the secrets Harry had been hiding – including the connection to Voldemort – as the loss of his magic had dissolved all the barriers.

Even the Secret Oaths had been nullified, and on some odd occasions, Dumbledore wondered if Harry would be attacked for the things he knew. For all Dumbledore knew, Flint might realise that Harry could tell _anyone_ what his completely embarrassing Animagus form was, and proceed to track the boy down and kill him. But Dumbledore would dismiss these worries every time, believing that Harry would be able to look after himself – after all, he _had_ trained himself into peak physical form, and seemed to be continuing to push at his body's limits.

All magical things on Harry's person at the time of the 'accident' had simultaneously and instantaneously combusted – including the wristbands, the copy of the Marauders' Map, his other wand, the enchanted bracers… _everything_ and _anything_ that had been remotely magical. In a fit of thoughtfulness – or thoughtlessness, depending on how you looked at it – Jeremy and his friends had researched how to remake the wristband ward that increased the perceived gravity of the wearer. They had added an extra part to the 'code' that allowed for someone non-Magical to deactivate/reactivate it and also wear it with no ill-effects. The ward would draw on ambient magic to power it, and with a land as soaked in magic as the United Kingdom was, it worked with no problems.

At first, Harry had refused to wear it. But then he had started noticing how much slower, how much weaker he was after his year-long sojourn in St. Mungo's, and had reluctantly started to use the gift. With the horrible scars (even with potions that lessened the swelling) and his rather impressive physical condition, no-one dared threaten him physically, even if he _was_ missing an arm.

"Where's… where's Harry gone?" Lily asked tremulously from the doorway.

Henry grimaced – looks like it was something James had said that had pissed Harry off. "He's left the house. Probably gone to town, or something." He replied, and Jeremy only shrugged and lifted one shoulder in Henry's direction, as if to say 'What he said'.

"Oh…" murmured Lily and she floated wisplike out of the room and down the hallway. To Harry's room.

"I wish I could bring his magic back. But not even the sphere can do it – I've tried using the Soul Magic sphere but it's not working. Even the Transmutation sphere can't bring his arm back – I think whatever spell he did that day prevented any of the damage from actually being healed…" muttered Jeremy. "I don't understand – Dumbledore says the sphere was Harry's, and that it wouldn't allow anyone else to use it. But why did it suddenly appear next to me when… when Harry lost his magic?"

I made a noncommittal noise. "Maybe it only allows itself to be used by someone with magic," I suggested.

He looked at me, frowning a little. "You're talking about it as if the sphere's alive… although," He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Dumbledore _did_ say the sphere acted like it had a personality. So we have an intelligent magical artefact that Harry created, a non-magical Harry and a family full of ghosts." Jeremy banged his clenched fist against the window pane – the magically reinforced glass didn't even shudder. "I hate this. I hate my life."

Jeremy paused. "I guess this is how Harry feels. As if he's useless and nobody wants him anymore. Even before, it probably looked like everyone wanted _me_, but…" Here, Jeremy looked up at Henry.

"…but Dumbledore explained to me that I didn't have a connection to Voldemort. Because _Harry_ was the Boy-Who-Lived, but not… but not the one the prophecy talked about."

"I don't understand."

A sigh. "It means the Chosen One and the Boy Who Lived are two different people. One would temporarily defeat and delay Voldemort, and the other would destroy him completely."

"Oh." Henry thought about it for a moment. "That explains a lot."

"It does?"

This time it was Henry's turn to sigh. "If the Chosen One and the Boy Who Lived are two different people. Maybe the 'power the Dark Lord knows not' isn't what protected the Boy Who Lived, but something completely different."

A pause. "I still don't understand what you mean about that explaining a lot. I mean, sure, it's something to think about, but…"

"Set a thief to catch a thief – it seems logical that a wizard would have more chance at defeating Voldemort than well, a Muggle."

"He's not a Muggle," was Jeremy's quick reply, and he glared dangerously at Henry.

Henry raised his hands up, palms out. "I know! I'm… look, I'm just trying to make a point here – you're not the Boy-Who-Lived, but Harry is. Logically, people would think that makes him the Chosen One as well, but with him losing his magic, that can't possibly be true. So if _you're_ the Chosen One, then… well…" Henry shrugged. "I don't know. It makes sense to _me_ when I think about it in my head."

"Whatever." Jeremy waved his hand dismissively. "But it doesn't change the fact that he hates us."

Henry looked at the ground, at his feet. "I know."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Author's Notes: A bit of an angst and exposition chapter, and a lot of time has passed. The twins are now thirteen, Matthew is two and a bit years old, and Other-Harry (Henry) is now in a body that he made with the Holy Grail. Many of the students have pulled out of Hogwarts, and so you won't some characters at Hogwarts.

1. Jobs – what kind of jobs are there out there? No need for psychologists or psychiatrists, just give them a potion or lock them into the attic – seeing as that's how people dealt with insane people back in the Middle Ages. Of course, you _could_ just lock them in St. Mungo's instead. Then there really is no need for things like telecommunications, just Floo Attendants and stuff like that. So many of the jobs that are in the Muggle world just wouldn't exist in the Wizarding world, and I'm assuming that the Wizarding World is as clique-ish as purebloods can get.

Aster – a type of garden plant that flowers, annual plant in the daisy family. Via Latin, and the Greek word 'astēr", meaning 'star'. A star, as you should know (unless the light pollution or just plain pollution is just that bad where you grew up), is a speck of light in a field of darkness – and Matthew is just that. Matthew means 'gift of Yahweh' (God). The Sphere – much more intelligent than anyone realises. Could this be the power the Dark Lord knows not? Maybe! …or maybe not. 

I realised that I probably didn't explain what the etymology of some of the names I've used are. Jeremy is a derivation of Jerome (I think), and Saint Jerome was an influential figure with many people under his spiritual direction – Jeremy is going to lead them all to a sort of salvation, but he can't really take them all the way there. If there are any specific names that you think I might have intended for a particularly meaning to be attached to them but you aren't quite sure, do leave a review saying so (or PM me), and I'll attach it to the next update.

Okay, this is the final chapter in Volume 1, and I'll have a two week hiatus to write up a buffer for Volume 2. I've uploaded a HTML version of the entire of Volume 1 (just one file), that you can download from my homepage (which is actually just a link to the download page) and read in one whole go.


	16. 16 Cleverness

**Desiring Other Times**

Chapter 16 – Cleverness

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, this would cost you mighty amounts of money, be in paper form with a nice cover and advertised through some means other than _Fan_Fiction.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

_We may call planet Earth one 'world' in an infinite number of possibilities, one existence in our solar system, our galaxy, our universe. But within this one world among worlds are the various existences of all the life-forms on this planet. The extent of the world that a chipmunk that has been born and raised in captivity for the sole purpose of having chemicals experimentally used on it is completely different to mine. My world is that of comfortable beds and warm clothes in winter, of fresh food and fine friends. _

_My brother and I may belong to the same 'world', but the Fates have treated him far worse than they have treated me. Sometimes I believe that if the prophecy hadn't been made, if Voldemort had bothered to find out the full contents of the prophecy, if only all manner of small changes had occurred… I believe that my brother and I would have been treated like any ordinary child, that he wouldn't have felt the desire to prove himself better than me. That he wouldn't need to get stronger. And he wouldn't have ended up the way he has. _

_The purebloods say that Harry James Potter bit off more than he could chew. That it was the mudblood in him that made him too weak to handle the power of Magic. I wouldn't know, being of mixed blood myself, but I truly believe that they must be wrong. They have to be. _

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"-my… Jeremy… wake up, Jeremy. Jeremy!" I snapped my eyes open as the voice grew louder and more strident.

Some indistinct figure (my eyes were still cloudy with sleep) stalked to my window and ripped the curtains aside, bring glaring light in to flood my bedroom. The lancing brilliance caused me to shield my eyes with one arm and I propped myself up with the other. Looking down at the arm that I had used to sit myself up, the fog of sleep was instantaneously vaporized as I realised that Harry would never be able to do something as simple as sit himself up with one arm, the other… slamming down on an alarm clock? Throwing off the covers?

No matter – all that resounded in my mind (like every morning since that day) as I sluggishly climbed out of bed was that here was just one more thing I had over Harry. I was hale of health, whole of body, sane of mind and on the way to becoming a powerful wizard. Harry may be sane (although the jury's still out on that one), but the rest, the rest Harry _used_ to be.

There is no worse feeling than to have something incredible and then lose it. Look how much _more_ unhappy little kids become if you first give them candy then take it away from them, compared to if you just ignored them. I have no idea what goes on in his mind, since Professors Snape and Dumbledore decided that it would be 'unsafe' if I learned the art of Legilimency and inadvertently fell to the same fate as my twin.

"Mu-u-um! Did you _have_ to open the curtains?" I complained, although not with much enthusiasm – no matter how much Harry complained, he would never get his arm back, or his magic. In hindsight, it was as if magic had defined him, as if magic had helped form the majority of his personality. Losing his magic had destroyed him immensely – thinking of it like that makes me wonder what would happen to all those purebloods if _they_ lost their magic…

Perhaps they hate Muggles because they fear their determination? Because they believe they couldn't do as good a job if they were Muggles? It certainly opens up a new dimension to the matter – 'Purebloods Hate Muggles Because They're Jealous', I can see that on the Daily Prophet, maybe. Wait, I take that back, probably more likely on the cover of something like the Quibbler, seeing as the Prophet is primarily owned by purebloods.

But that's not worries me. What worries me is that before… before his 'accident', Harry and I seemed well on the way to being, well, I don't know, friends? Yes, friends, something like that; I'm sure that given time, Harry and I would have been able to call each other a 'friend' as well as a 'brother'. But now, _now_? Harry doesn't even talk when he comes back (we're not even sure if he talks when he's at school either, come to think of it), and certainly not to _me_.

Dumbledore comes to visit some times – he used to visit every other night, but when it became obvious that Harry outright _loathed_ his presence (he only 'hated' the rest of us), the visits dropped off to once a week, to once a month, to hardly ever. During the holidays, Dumbledore sends me a letter and asks about Harry in a rather indirect manner, his request hidden among the quite amusing anecdotes he writes about. I do believe that most of them are fabricated, although it wouldn't quite do to accuse the Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot of being a fraud, would it?

"Yes I did, Jeremy, now _get up_!" Commanded Mum, and I stumbled, yawning, to the door, down the hallway, past Harry's room (the door was firmly shut like all the others in the hallway, but it seemed to exude an aura of menacing animosity) and into the bathroom. Matthew was already there, with Dad, and Dad was brushing Matthew's teeth.

My littlest brother was now almost three years old, and it was almost exactly that long ago that Harry had experienced that life-changing moment. When Matthew had started to learn to speak, he had also started asking those difficult questions like 'How come Harry has one arm?' and 'What are those?' (as he pointed at Harry's scars). It was probably why Harry seemed capable of hating Matthew more than he hated the rest of us – even if we all had magic, we didn't consciously and deliberately bring his situation up.

Breakfast was a quiet affair. Occasionally, Matthew's intermittent burbling would break through the silence and Mum would fuss about him for a few moments before it was back to quiet again.

"I'm staying at school next holidays." Harry suddenly uttered, and then it really _was_ silent – the clinking of cutlery on flatware had ceased on Matthew had paused in his struggles against the highchair.

"Why not, honey?" Harry's eyes narrowed at that last word, but he didn't comment.

He shrugged. "I'd rather not waste your time and mine, travelling to and from Eton. Petrol costs a lot these days and all, and-"

"Oh, don't worry about _that_, Harry." Dad waved a hand dismissively. We can deal, it's no skin off our noses to drive to Eton to pick you up."

Harry's face froze into a mask of nothingness. "…and I want to stay at Eton so I don't fall behind in my studies. I have holiday projects that can't really be completed at home, seeing as well, we don't have all the books I'll need."

Mum sighed and put her tea-cup down. "Ho- Harry, you _know_ we offered to stock our library with Muggle books. And the offer still stands, Harry."

Harry sighed. "I… well, I think it's really… you've already done so much, buying me _three_ computers-" Two were desktops, one for home and one at Eton, and the third was a notebook-tablet combination. "-getting the house fitted with the Internet, I mean… it's just…"

Had Harry spoken more than two words during the holiday, I might have believed that he truly was uncomfortable with Mum and Dad spending all that money on him. Well, saying it like that isn't quite right – I mean, it's more like it seems that isn't the only reason why he wants to stay at Eton College during the holidays. Mum and Dad seemed to miss "…you've already done so much, I…" Here, he seemed to be trying to speak around a lump in his throat, and overwhelming emotion welled in Mum's eyes, while Dad blinked rapidly.

"Oh, _Harry_." Mum hurried to his side and hugged him tightly, while Dad tried to maintain his façade of 'I'm too tough to cry'. "If…" She sniffled slightly. "If you _ever_ need anything, _anything_!" Mum emphasised. "Then you just have to ask, okay?"

She looked at him patiently, and Harry finally nodded, slowly. "Okay," he replied, in a rather small voice.

I narrowed my eyes slightly, wondering just how much of it had been an act. For as long as I could remember, Harry had _never_ acted like this, especially to Mum and Dad. But who could say that he couldn't change?

Mum and Dad fussed over Harry for a little bit more, while Matthew and I ate our breakfasts silently. For a toddler, Matthew seemed a lot more intelligent than he should be. Not that I had any idea how intelligent one should be, as I didn't really have all that much experience with young… with _babies_. But it didn't change the fact that Matthew's sudden reticence in the face of the 'family bonding' Mum, Dad and Harry were engaging in was a little eerie.

"Mattie?" I murmured out of the corner of my mouth, and he twitched, then slowly turned his head to look at me.

"What, Jere… Jerim… Jerry?" The jarring voice of paranoia within me kept leaping about – Matthew had spoken _quietly_, and with Harry's little attempt at fooling Mum and Dad, I got the feeling that Matthew was trying to make me think he couldn't say my name.

I blinked, then shook my head. "Never mind, it's nothing." I finally muttered, and he blinked owlishly at me then returned to clumsily eating his breakfast.

"Well!" Dad drew away from Harry and sniffled a little, but then he pasted a grin on his visage. Mum wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, and sat back as well. "I guess it's almost time for… for us to drive Harry to Eton." said Dad as he glanced at the clock.

Breakfast was finished up quickly. Mum went to help change Matthew, while I checked my things again, to make sure I had everything. Dad Levitated Harry's suitcases into the car, then my trunk as well. Eventually, all five of us were packed into the car, and we drove off to Eton College.

Once there, another tearful goodbye (on Mum's part) took place, and then we drove to a nearby Wizarding Portkey portal. All the portals in the UK were designed so that large items (like cars) could also be transported, and in a flash and a whirl (and a whirl and a whirl and a whirl) we were at the closest portal to Kings Cross Station. Carefully, Dad manoeuvred the car back onto the streets, and then slipped into a parking lot that had been built specifically for the use of wizards and witches. There were several wards on the lot, including Muggle Repelling, Notice-Me-Not, Unplottable and a rather strange Space Stretching ward which was (apparently) similar to one used by the Knight Bus. Dad parked the car in between a horse-drawn carriage and a vintage ragtop.

As we alighted from the car, Dad frowned at the emblem on the carriage (a drop of sparkling crimson on a circle of silver – the crest that fundamentalist purebloods stamped across practically everything they owned). Unfortunately, all spots in the parking lot were on reservation only, and the one that was _always_ next to ours was the one for the Parkinsons – spots were allocated alphabetically, unless you felt it was worth throwing several hundred galleons in to get a spot that was _only_ a few metres closer to the entrance to Kings Cross. The Malfoys always did that for some reason, but I supposed it was just because they wanted everyone to know they were rich. Excessively rich.

But not rich enough to bring his son back to life.

Reports had filtered into the country through word of mouth that Malfoy (senior or junior didn't matter now, only one of them was alive now) had travelled to almost all of the Alchemists in the world, and begged them to bring his son back. After the first few times of being violently rejected (human transmutation was forbidden for some reason), he proceeded to ask to learn the art of Alchemy. No matter what he did, none of them said yes, and even he and his many friends couldn't face off against a whole clan of Alchemists when he tried to kidnap one.

And so it was that the Malfoy family wasn't present at all today, and they wouldn't be present when the holidays rolled round, or next year, or the year after that. In fact, most people wondered if the Malfoy family would ever have a reason to be at Kings Cross Station ever again, but being a rather traditional family, it was with little doubt that Lucius Malfoy was going back to square one in his 'Procure an Heir' path. Well, not quite step _one_, considering he already had a wife.

"Everything all right, Jeremy?" Dad peered down at me, wondering why I was standing frozen next to the boot of the car, staring in the direction of the place where the Malfoys normally parked. I closed my eyes, and tried to clear my thoughts the way Dumbledore had been trying to teach me for several years. For some reason, it only seemed to get harder and harder, and Snape had been particularly venomous ever since.

"No- I mean, yeah, everything's fine." I shook my head, and grabbed hold of the luggage trolley Mum had eased my trunk on to. We trundled on to Kings Cross Station (Dad was carrying Matthew), and were immersed in a crowd of Muggles, with a few islands of rather conspicuous wizards and witches (some were talking rather loudly about Magic or Muggles, or were wearing robes and suchlike) dotting the press of people.

Mum helped me haul my school trunk onto the train, just like she had for the last two years. This was my going to be my fourth year at school, the third year I would spent tens of kilometres away from my twin. "Look after yourself, Jeremy." She murmured as she hugged me tightly, and we stood there for a while. She sniffled, then drew back and looked at me tearfully, worriedly, as if this might be the year I would come back in a coffin. It didn't help that at the Quidditch World Cup Final, Death Eaters had swarmed over the campsites, and the Dark Mark had been fired into the air.

People were getting nervous, and it was times like these I wish I knew just what was going on. That I wished that the Sphere could let me see who the Death Eaters were and what they were up to. Unfortunately, I still hadn't gotten the hang of concentrating on more than one sphere at a time, so I couldn't scry for information as it required the use of the Time and Space spheres, and quite possibly the Soul one as well, but I wasn't sure.

"Stay safe, son." Dad whispered, and Matthew peered at me with wide eyes, and waved cheerfully.

"Bye bye, Jerry!" he called, and I smiled sadly.

"Bye, Matthew. Mum, Dad." I hugged them in turn, and then they returned to the platform, leaving me standing in the corridor of the carriage. Some students brushed past me, and I smiled again, wryly this time. They'd never recognise me _now_, not with my hair having grown a little longer and the tips bleached blonde. Puberty had been kind to me, and I had shot up a few inches but still trailed behind Harry, who had always been taller than me.

"Don't forget to write!" Mum reminded me, just like she did every year after Harry's 'accident'.

"I won't!" I cried back, and stumbled to brace myself as the train started to move.

When the train had pulled out of the station, I returned to my compartment, and slid open a Muggle book about meditation techniques. Ever since Harry had lost his magic due to bad information that he had come by through Legilimency, my ability at Mind Magic had started to wane. Dumbledore hypothesised it was because I didn't want to end up the way Harry did, but it seemed nothing could help me remove my mental block on learning Occlumency and Legilimency.

The door to the compartment slid open and closed as people came and went, trying to look for their friends.

"Jeremy? Is that you?" I looked up from the book, my hair swaying with the motion.

"Oh, hey Ron. How were your holidays?" I closed the book and tucked it away. Ron entered the compartment, trunk in tow, and I realised suddenly just how tall he was – the compartment seemed to shrink as he passed through the door.

"Hmm? Oh, they were okay, I suppose. Mum got _really_ worried though about the World Cup – I mean, we didn't have the time to send her an owl or anything, telling her we were fine." Ron had gone to the World Cup, as his father had been able to (somehow) procure some tickets. When Ron had invited me to join them, Dad said I couldn't go, as it would be 'detrimental to Harry's progress'.

"…and we were in the Top Box-"

"Ron, is that _you_?" The door slid open once more, and Neville stood in the doorway.

"Why, yes, of _course_ it's me. Who were you expecting, _Malfoy_?" Ron rolled his eyes, and Neville's eyes darted to look at me, to gauge my reaction, but when it became obvious that I was merely bored with everything, he grinned as well.

"Well, I don't know. Maybe you're some mutant clone of him or something." Neville sat down next to Ron, and we chatted about the holidays.

"-and we were in the Top Box and everything." Ron's hands gesticulated wildly as he described the Quidditch World Cup Final, and Neville showed me a few of the souvenirs he had bought while there. A few minutes later, Ginny and Luna turned up as well, and our compartment started getting a little cramped.

"Hang on!" I stood up and shooed everyone outside. "Just wait, I'll explain." I waved a hand at them dismissively when they complained.

Levelling my wand at the compartment door, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath then snapped my eyes open. "_Spatium Grandere_," I intoned, waited a few moments, then tucked my wand away. Gingerly, I slid the door open and grinned when it opened onto a much larger compartment.

"I had no idea you owned Clouted Snout Bugbees, Jeremy," murmured Luna as she looked about the room dreamily.

"Er, what?" Despite spending almost a year in her company, Ron still hadn't gotten used to her rather strange pronouncements. None of us had, really, although Ginny seemed to be the best at hiding her reaction.

"Clouted Snout Bugbees," repeated Luna. "If you tame them, they react to a pass-phrase and do things like _this_." She waved her hand at the expanded room.

"Like… what?"

"_Ron_…" groaned Ginny exasperatedly, and she slumped into the seat next to me.

"He's been like that all holiday. It's as if he has to use up all his stupidity in the holidays just so he can be responsible during the term…" She muttered, and I rolled my eyes.

"Responsible? I suppose…" I tapped my chin thoughtfully. "What with Hermione being in the States, the both of us have had to hunker down and actually pay attention in class."

"Took _him_ long enough to realise that…" Ginny tapped absently at the panelling.

"Yeah – a year and a half!" I joked, half-serious.

"Hey! I'll have you know that I was doing perfectly fine before – I just decided that-"

"-that you needed to get better marks or Hermione would _never_ talk to you," finished Ginny in an undertone.

I chuckled, and Ron scowled at me. "It isn't_ funny_!"

The banter continued for quite a while, punctuated only by a few more visits by friends and the Snack Trolley.

"How _is_ she doing? Hermione, I mean?"

We all looked at Ron, seeing as _he_ owled her almost three times a week. "What? Why are you all looking at me?" When we all looked at him in a manner that implied that his act of ignorance was completely and utterly _not_ _working_, he sighed. "Fine, fine. She's doing fine-"

"-which translates to getting all A's in Hermione-Speak."

"A's? What? Of course not, she's not getting Acceptables-"

"Ron, in America, they use a different grading system to ours. And considering the school she's going to, they've adopted a Muggle grading system. 'A' is the highest grade, followed by 'B', and 'C', and so on."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh. Now continue."

"Well, I wouldn't have stopped if you hadn't interrupted me!"

"Ron!"

"Fine, um, where was I? Oh, yes, um… She said her parents take her around the States during the holidays, and has these amazing pictures of the Grand Canyon…" He leapt up, rummaged through his trunk, and pulled out a photo album. "Look," he said as he flipped through the pages.

"Amazing…" I murmured at the gaping gorge.

"Clouted Snout Bugbees made that," was all Luna said.

"Er, right." Ron shifted uneasily. "Anyway, she said she's really happy over there."

"Hmm, she _looks_ happy," Neville pointed at one picture where she was standing in front of the Washington State Wizarding and Witchcraft Academy. Photo-Hermione waved happily up at us, and Ron sighed happily.

I pulled out my pocket watch, flipped open the lid and tried to divine the time. It was a rather complicated time-piece, and then I realised I was looking at the wrong layer. I flipped the Astronomy plate over, and then the Soul Status plate (the many hands corresponded to different people, and would point at various statuses, like 'Early' or 'Home').

"It's almost time," I murmured, and closed my watch. "Time to get changed." I looked pointedly at Ginny and Luna, and they left without argument. Although Luna _did_ tell us to beware being bewitched by Blasting Blob Butterflies.

"Jeremy?"

"Yeah? What?"

"How's Harry these days?"

Harry leaned with his back against the apartment door, and relaxed slightly as the moonlight that filtered past the curtains played across his face. The day had been rather troublesome, with his parents having insisted that it wasn't any trouble to pick him up every holiday. And then there had been the new students, who had stared at him and his pinned up sleeve and his scars. He'd had to bark at them a few times before they finally realised that typically, someone as physically damaged as him could hardly be warm and amiable.

An owl fluttered in through the window, and softly landed on the carpet. With a practised hand (and a handy penknife), Harry removed the letter (return address to Hermione) from the owl's leg.

"Thanks, Mittere," murmured Harry, and the owl hooted then flew out the window again. Muggles had never heard of owls being pets, and so during the term, Mittere stayed at home in Godric's Hollow.

Harry slit the envelope open, pulled out the latter and skimmed down the parchment page.

_Harry, _

_How are things in Eton? I hear you're about to graduate early – congratulations. Things over here in Washington are pretty good. The teachers are all very well qualified, and I'm very impressed with their teaching methods – certainly a lot better than Professor Snape, I should say! _

_I know this is rather late for a birthday present- _

She'd already gotten him one, but that didn't matter.

-_but the delivery was held back by some… rather stringent customs decrees._

Eh? What had Hermione gotten him that could be even vaguely illegal? Harry shook the envelope, and out fell a silvery metal chain bracelet with one dangling platinum charm. The charm was in the shape of several concentric rings inside of a clear bubble that had a metallic sheen to it. The rings floated within the bubble, all seemingly unattached to anything that could hold them in midair.

Harry tapped the bubble and it swayed on the chain. The little rings stayed unmoving, although one of the rings seemed to quiver when he touched the outer bubble.

A little annoyed that she had gotten him something that would remind him of one of his most precious possessions (and Jeremy had usurped ownership of it), Harry returned to reading the letter.

_I know you wish you could still do magic – we all do – and so when I discovered that there existed items that could allow Muggles (or Squibs) to perform magic, I searched high and low for something of the sort. As far as my research has shown, this bracelet is one such artefact, and it works in almost the same manner as the wristband you wear – it draws on the magic in the area to perform the magic. _

This was certainly new – Harry hadn't come across any such object when he had investigated any possible way for him to regain his magic. Was this a joke?

"_Wingardium Leviosa_," He held the charm up and concentrated on the chair in front of him. Nothing happened.

Feeling a little foolish, Harry looked back at the letter.

_I talked to Jeremy about this, and he's sure that the rings are like the spheres in the Magic Sphere that Dumbledore said that you made that somehow came into his possession. _

A run-on sentence – Hermione was getting confused.

_And if you remember which magic type corresponds to which sphere/ring, than apparently – I'm going on theory here, Harry – apparently, that ring will spin if there's magic of that type floating around you. So if there isn't any magic at all – or not enough – then the rings will be stationary. And you can only use magic of that type, so if say, the Soul magic ring is spinning – I hope it doesn't – then you can only perform Soul type magic. _

Ah. That would explain things. In particular, it explained why one of the rings – the fourth, and that of Soul magic – had quivered when I had touched it. Apparently, the wounds I had sustained had been caused by that part of my soul that had contained 'Magic' being forcibly ripped out of my body. My wand arm had been completely destroyed due to my holding a magical focus with that arm, and apparently I was lucky half of my torso hadn't joined it. Some of the Magic from my soul had remained in the scars, but obviously, if the ring had only moved a tiny bit, there wasn't much left now.

_I know that you might be confused as to why your wristband can work perfectly fine in almost all parts of the world – this is because the ward on the wristband pulls on any and all magical energy to change what you perceive, and seeing as Muggles can hypnotize others with practically no magic involved at all, the ward doesn't require all that much energy. _

_There are various uses for this object, as it can be used to detect if magic has been performed in the area. I'm not sure what would happen if you were to get a hold of a mature wizard's – or witch's – wand, and try to draw magical residue from it. Perhaps it could supply you with almost all the magic you could ever need, but not many people have ever gotten their hands on something like this._

So how had Hermione – a Muggleborn witch, mind you – managed to purchase this?

_Now, you might be wondering how I managed to get my hands on such a rare item. Well, let's just say that I had to get the help of your brother, or, more specifically, his fame, to persuade a rather stubborn owner to 'give it up', so to speak. It took us a while, you know – a year or so, actually – to wear her down, but now you have it. _

_I hope you don't do anything too dishonest. _

_Hermione_

A part of Harry felt disgusted that it was his brother's fame – falsely earned, really – that had brought this drop of salvation. Another part of him said 'screw that, I can do magic!'. Gingerly, he brought the bubble into contact with one of his larger scars, and watched the fourth ring twitch, then swivel a little. A little more slowly, he brought the bubble closer to his right shoulder, closer, until it bumped gently against the cloth of his pinned up sleeve.

The ring started to spin slowly, a little hesitantly. Harry quickly removed his over-shirt, leaving him in a sleeveless shirt. The moment the bubble touched his right shoulder, the fourth ring (counting from the outside) began spinning freely, smoothly and Harry grinned.

With an almost audible _click_, he brought some of his Occlumency barriers up again. At the same time the walls went up, all the buzzing interference that he had become inured to suddenly disappeared, and he only noticed its presence when it had gone.

"Must have been the scar," he muttered, moving to bring the bubble to his scar. The moment the bubble left his shoulder, the Occlumency barriers fell to pieces, and the buzzing began anew. "Damn!" he cursed, but brought the bracelet near his forehead nonetheless.

Straining to see if the rings moved, Harry was forced to keep the bubble about an inch away from the scar so he could see. It twitched a little, but Harry wasn't sure if that meant anything – after all, the ring had swivelled a little when it was only separated from his shoulder by a layer of cloth, and had spun smoothly when it wasn't. An inch of air could be all the difference between a subtle twitch and full out spinning madly.

He sighed. It really wasn't much use if he couldn't do any magic unless he kept the bracelet firmly attached to his shoulder – which was impossible unless he taped it there. Or had a ring piercing put in and hung it there like an earring.

But it was the beginning of the revival of hope.

"Harry? Oh, I dunno. I'm sure he's doing fine. He's top of his classes and all, and Mum and Dad are really proud of him." I shrugged. "Sometimes makes me wish I was half as smart as he is, but there's nothing I can do."

Ron sniggered. "Did Harry get your brains as well, when you were born?"

"Ah, that might explain things. Like how I'm a brainless Gryffindor and all that whatnot."

"Hey, we're not brainless-!"

"Oh look what the cat dragged in." A rather deep voice spoke from the doorway, and we all turned to look, with our wands out.

"Crabbe?" A faint hint of confusion entered Neville's voice, and the rest of us were quite surprised as well. Crabbe had somehow managed to string together an intelligible sentence that was vaguely insulting?

"Of course," Crabbe murmured in a rather Snape-like fashion. He acted nothing like the grunting gorilla we had thought him to be when he had been Malfoy's bodyguard. "We Slytherins are known for being _cunning_, after all. And I'm afraid this is the end of the line for you all – I can't have you lot running around and telling everything that I can actually _speak_, after all."

He raised his hand up and we saw that wrapped about his wrist was a rather strange wire torque that wound up his forearm like a snake. The end that was nearest his palm was actually shaped like a snake's head, and the eyes of the snake glowed green.

The room suddenly shrank, and I realised that the magic was being sucked into whatever he was wearing around his arm.

"Shit! Everyone, wands away!" Without waiting to explain, I leapt at Crabbe, swinging wildly. The rest hesitated for a moment, then did as I said and hurled themselves at Crabbe.

"Heh." Crabbe snorted in a rather condescending manner, and my eyes widened as the metal snake's eyes glowed blue, and Crabbe was surrounded in a corona of magic so dense I could practically _smell_ it.

"This is the end, Boy-Who-Lived." He intoned rather dramatically, and swiped at me.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Author's Notes: Well, I'm back! Since people are being so _negative_, I decided I'd have to surprise you all and… bring you a chapter! I hope there's enough in this chapter to intrigue you, and get you _really_ hooked!

BTW, those of you who are pointing out all those 'plot holes' in the story, do remember that most of this story is told in first person. This means that any assumptions and mistakes the character whose POV is being shown is also written into the text – meaning those 'holes' aren't really 'plot holes', just gaps in a character's knowledge of the situation. One such 'plot-hole-that-was-just-Harry-being-stupid' was his plundering of Flitwick's 'mind', but was in actual fact his being tricked by an artificial Occlumency ward.

1. Parallels – remember that in the first volume, the first words (apart from the little 'tid-bits') are of Jeremy being told to wake up by Lily. In the second volume, this is again in the beginning, except Lily is being much less 'polite'.

2. Harry – oh, let's see how well he can act. He's getting better at twisting those parents of his around his little finger, but it's still probably going to make him bitter that it took him losing an arm and his magic for them to start treating him as good as (if not better than) Jeremy.

3. Portkey Portals – you've heard of Apparition Points, of all those sorts of places that are set aside for people to 'appear' in (like how at the Quidditch Cup, they're in a clearing). So here's a little more elaboration on the Portals as they exist in this Universe.

4. Parking Lots – if only Muggles could reserve lots for a day…

5. Pureblood – Silver is used to ward off the Undead, such as werewolves, and is known as a purifying or cleansing substance. The red drop is symbolic for blood. Pure Blood, simple as that.

6. Human transmutation – I'm borrowing a little bit of lore from Full Metal Alchemist (not to be confused with the Western film Full Metal Jacket or the anime/manga Full Metal Panic). Human Transmutation is forbidden in FMA as it generally results in perversions of nature and the alchemist involved (at best) loses a limb or (worse) their life. In this AU, the worst that could happen is that alchemist becomes a monster themselves.

7. _Spatium_ _Grandere_ – '_Spatium'_, Latin for 'space' or 'distance'. '_Grandere'_, a corruption of the Latin word '_grandis'_, meaning 'great' or 'full grown'. Full meaning is Greater Space.

8. Clouted Snout Bugbees – A spin-off of the Crumple Horned Snorkack. They may exist, and Luna believes they can expand space.

9. The watch – Dumbledore's watch in the first book is described as 'having twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge'. In Jeremy's case, you open the pocket watch like a normal one by lifting the lid open on its hinge. There are three disks inside that are attached to the same hinge, and the top one is like Dumbledore's watch, in that it tracks the paths of important cosmic objects. The second disk is like the clock in the Weasleys' house. The final and third disk is a normal analogue clock, with smaller dials in the face that specify the date.

10. Blasting Blob Butterflies – they blast blobs of blue brilliance to bewitch… ok, that's it, I'm not doing any more alliteration in the description. They shoot balls of light that can bewitch victims. If they exist, that is.

11. The 'charm bracelet' (even if it only has one charm) – I'm feeling cheap, and this is about as bad as that artefact Ishida Uryuu gets provided with in the anime fillers of Bleach to 'temporarily' return 'some' of his powers. In this case, Harry _still_ can't really do any magic, and it's just sitting there taunting him (ok, so maybe not).

12. Slytherin – it's known as the house of cunning, so at the very least, all the people in that house should possess _some_ cunning. I'm not going to say that there are only four types of people in the world (or at least, in the Magical population of the UK), but that surely there is a _reason_ for why Crabbe and Goyle somehow managed to get into Slytherin. I mean, they are sort of loyal to Draco, so wouldn't that have gotten them placed into Hufflepuff if they really were that dumb?

Phew! That was a hard slog, getting the chapter started so that I could move onto the action! Will Jeremy get his ass handed to him by a suddenly intelligent Crabbe? Well, you'll have to wait a while to find out!

Please note that my two week holiday actually starts… in two days. Sorry if what I wrote was a little misleading, I was led to believe that holidays began after exams, when in actual fact they began **five days** after exams, as there was a weekend, then three days of school, then holidays.


	17. 17 Tribulations

**Desiring Other Times**

Chapter 17 – Tribulations

Disclaimer:

Tin Woodsman: If only I had a heart!

Scarecrow: If only I had a brain!

Cowardly Lion: If only I had courage!

Me: If only I owned Harry Potter!

All: But we don't!

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

_I may not have been alive for very long, so I can't really say dramatic things like 'All my life…' or 'When I was young…' Why is it that you need to be old to be dramatic?_

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"This is the end, Boy-Who-Lived." Crabbe intoned rather dramatically, and swiped at me, his swinging arm and fist glowing blue. The corona of azure blurred his arm, and I realised in a split second that he was _getting faster_.

I ducked, and his arm swiped at the tips of my hair, and we all stood there shocked as several locks of gold-tipped brown hair floated through the air and gently fell to the floor. Well, all of us except Crabbe, that is.

"My hair!" My hands instinctively reached upwards to where I knew would be a practically flat cut, and I only just dodged in time to evade Crabbe's next swing, this time at my torso.

"Fuck your hair, Jeremy! Just hit him!" Neville tried to sweep Crabbe's legs from under him, but Crabbe barely budged.

The door slid open, and Ginny and Luna stood there. Luna was rifling through her Quibbler, and was (for some odd) reason ripping out the pages. When half the pages had been removed, she reached _into_ the magazine, and pulled out…

A hammer. A giant sized hammer. A giant metal hammer, the sort you see in cartoons like the one Wile E. Coyote and Road Runner were in.

Somehow, she managed to lift the hammer up above her head, and was in the process of bring it down again, this time onto Crabbe's head, when he dashed at her, intent on incapacitating her before she could attack.

"Unf!" Neville tackled Crabbe, but Crabbe continued to move on, dragging Neville along. Ginny and Ron also tackled him, and I kicked at Crabbe, aiming at the base of his spine.

Crabbe continued to move too fast for me to kick him (he just managed to avoid my foot by a few millimetres), and even the added weight of Ginny, Ron and Neville couldn't stop him. Pulling a fist back, we watched in almost slow motion as the hammer's head came down, down, down and his fist pulling back, back, back.

"Just what is going on here!" A rather officious voice demanded.

WHAM! The hammer made contact, and Crabbe crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

"Fighting on the train!" Cho Chang was horrified. "That's _it_, I'm speaking to your Head of House-"

"Cho, he was going to _kill_ us." Ginny lifted up Crabbe's arm, the one with the torque wrapped about it.

"I don't see how one third year could manage to kill _three_ third years and two second years." Despite what she said, Cho stepped into the cramped compartment to have a closer look at the torque.

"It sucked the magic out of the air, Cho." Ron got up from under Crabbe. "We couldn't use magic, and somehow, I don't know…"

"…somehow, that… that whatever it is, um…" I ran a hand through my hair, and experienced a moment of severe disorientation when my fingers suddenly passed into air a whole lot sooner than they should have. Then I remembered how Crabbe had given me an impromptu haircut. "Look at this. My hair, it wasn't like this. And he like, I don't know, swung his arm and I ducked and his arm you know, it was glowing and it fricking cut my hair!" A little frantic that my haircut was now ruined, I babbled on. "And when it was sucking in magic, those eyes there," I pointed at the snake's head. "They glowed green, but then when he started punching at us, they glowed blue and so did his arms."

Cho paled. "His _arm_ did that to your hair?"

I nodded.

"Well…" A moment of hesitation, but then Cho moved to ease the torque off of Crabbe's arm. She conjured a bag, placed the torque in it, then bound Crabbe up. "I… I suppose he _may_ have been trying to kill you." She conceded.

Coincidentally, the train slowed to a stop. Cho craned her neck to peer out the window. "Ah, we're there. Come with me." She flicked her wand and Crabbe floated into the air. We exited the train, with many of the other students wondering why one of the Slytherins was bound up.

Goyle elbowed his way through the crowd, and stood before Cho, growling a little. "Just why have you got him tied up?"

Some people gasped when they realised Goyle had put together a sentence. That made sense. But our little group of five had already been shocked enough that we merely accepted it.

"I am taking him to the Headmaster. He is to be charged with attempted murder." She added when Goyle didn't move. More students gasped, and some pointed outright at me, gossiping already.

Goyle seemed ready to lash out, but Montague appeared at his shoulder and placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. He shook his head, and the two disappeared back into the crowd. Cho went to tell Hagrid about Crabbe, and he sighed, shaking his head a little grimly. Then he pulled out a wand, pointed it in the direction of the castle, and murmured something. A silvery bolt of light shot out of the wand and disappeared through the trees.

A lot of things had happened in the last few years – when Draco and the Basilisk had been, well, for lack of a better way of putting it, _blown up_, the Diary he had been carrying had somehow escaped unscathed. Dumbledore had gotten a look at it, and word had spread that it was a Horcrux, for one Tom Marvolo Riddle. The Soul Magic in the book had protected it from the Soul Magic of the failed (well, not _failed _but double-edged) attack Harry had performed, and all sorts of red tape and bureaucracy had to be waded through until they had managed to prove that Hagrid _hadn't_ been the one that opened the Chamber of Secrets more than half a century ago. Apparently, Hagrid had been given holiday classes to teach him all that he had been unfairly denied.

It was a quiet trip back to the castle, sitting in the gently swaying carriages. When we alighted from the carriages, Cho beckoned us to her, and we followed her. McGonagall was waiting, her face locked into a stone mask. "The Headmaster is waiting," was all she said.

We hurried after her, arrived in front of the stone gargoyle, ascended the stairs and entered Dumbledore's office.

"Mr Potter, Mr and Miss Weasley, Mr Longbottom, Miss Lovegood, Miss Chang…" he murmured from his seat behind the table. "…and Mr Crabbe."

"Prefect Chang, do tell us what occurred." McGonagall stood behind Dumbledore, and waited patiently.

"I was on patrol when I heard swearing and the sounds of a scuffle. I entered their compartment and found Luna Lovegood about to hit Vincent Crabbe with a hammer, Vincent Crabbe about to hit her, Ronald and Ginevra Weasley and Neville Longbottom hanging on to him and Jeremy Potter behind Vincent Crabbe."

"…was there anything particularly _strange_ about the scene?"

Cho paused. "Vincent Crabbe's body was outlined in a blue light. And some hair was strewn about the room." She added, almost on afterthought. The professors glanced at my hair.

"Mine," I conceded ruefully.

"Mr Potter, perhaps you can tell us what happened."

"Well… um… The three of us, Neville, Ron and I, we were in the compartment changing. Well, we'd finished, but yeah. And then Crabbe came in, and he did something weird, lifted his arm, and the snake-"

"What snake, Mr Potter?"

"Oh, this." Cho opened the bag and dropped the torque onto Dumbledore's desk.

Dumbledore's eyes widened as he realised what it was.

"Well, that snake, and um… the eyes? They glowed green and all the magic in the room got sucked in or something, so we had to put our wands away."

"How did you know it siphons off magic, Mr Potter?"

"Er…" I hemmed and hawed for a bit. "Um, well, before, when they were in the compartment with us-" I gestured at Ginny and Luna. "-it was kinda crowded, so I expanded the space. When he did whatever it was, the room shrank again."

"Mr Potter! Performing magic-" McGonagall was interrupted by Dumbledore.

"Minerva, I do believe that the holidays have ended. The rules only state that they can only perform magic during the term. _Technically_…" he trailed off and McGonagall's lips tightened into a thin line, although she seemed a little relieved.

Dumbledore turned to look at me again. "Do continue, Mr Potter."

"Well, he said something like 'This is the end' or something like that, and he swung his arm-" I imitated what Crabbe had down. "-and his arm was glowing blue, and so were the snake's eyes. I managed to duck, but well, I kinda didn't duck low enough and got myself a haircut."

"Ah. That would happen, considering…" Dumbledore prodded the torque with a thin pointing rod – not a wand, just a thin stick like a conductor's baton. "And…?" he prompted.

"Well, I don't remember what everyone was shouting, but Crabbe kept trying to hit me, and so Ron and Neville and I tried to well… um… beat him up? But yeah, we couldn't even stop him or anything, and then the girls came in and Luna did something weird and the hammer came out and then… um… Crabbe tried to go for her, so the rest of us tackled him and I tried to kick him, but I missed. Then Cho came in and Luna hit him with the hammer."

"Hammer, Miss Lovegood? How did you come by a hammer?" Dumbledore looked curiously at Luna.

"It was a _giant_ hammer," added Cho.

"A giant hammer," he amended.

Luna held up the rather mutilated Quibbler as answer. McGonagall rolled her eyes, and Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"Ingenious. Hiding a tool of defence within a magazine."

"Of course – a giant hammer from the astral plane is the only tool capable of stunning a Crumple Horned Snorkack, after all." Luna stated rather matter-of-factly and the rest of us blinked, then decided that any further comment on the matter would lead to us being confused.

"I see… Well, this-" Dumbledore lifted the torque with the thin rod. "-is a Dark Object, one that removes magic from the surroundings and gives the wearer certain… abilities, so to speak. I'm afraid that Mr Crabbe here will be expelled and charged with… what was it? Possession and use of a Dark Object, and Attempted Murder. Five of the latter, yes." He stood up, went to the fireplace and flung some Floo Powder in the fire.

"Cornelius Fudge!" He cried. "Your presence is requested _immediately_."

He stepped back, and then a spinning figure appeared in the fire, getting larger and larger until a full size Cornelius Fudge stepped out of the fire (not that he was very big to begin with).

"Albus? What is it I can do for you?"

"This boy here," Dumbledore pointed at Crabbe. "Has attempted to kill five other students with the use of a rather illegal Dark Object." He brandished the torque and hung it in front of Fudge.

"K… _kill_?" Fudge whirled about and spotted me. "Jeremy Potter? Oh dear…" He swung about, grabbed some Floo Powder, then hesitated. "May I?" Dumbledore nodded.

A few seconds later, a troop of Aurors appeared in the office, and they all took our statements, a copy of our memories of the event, and then they took Crabbe away, but not before they snapped his wand.

"Rest assured that he won't be coming out of Azkaban anytime soon, Albus. Attacking Jeremy Potter…" the last Fudge muttered under his breath. "I'll be going now, to ensure he gets a _very_ uncomfortable cell."

Dumbledore instructed McGonagall to take us to her office, where she activated a plate and a jug that would be connected to the kitchens. The six of us (including Cho) sat there, eating sandwiches and drinking pumpkin juice.

"Why do you think he tried to kill you?" Cho asked. "I mean, I _know_ you're Jeremy Potter and practically all the Slytherins hate you by default because of that, but… seriously, _kill_ you?"

I shrugged. "Maybe he thought he could get away with it. And weren't _you_ surprised that Goyle could put together a whole sentence? Crabbe could too, and boy…"

She nodded slowly. "I suppose… but he's what, thirteen? I had no idea a thirteen year-old could-"

Ron snorted. "Well, _Draco Malfoy_ murdered twenty-seven people in his first year… wouldn't put it past one of his flunkies to be as homicidal as him."

Luna peered at us from over her copy of the Quibbler – somehow or other, she'd gotten her hands on a new copy. "Perhaps there's an infestation of Loopy Cranium Heckulls in the Slytherin dorms…"

"Loopy Cranium Heckulls?" Ginny stared incredulously at Luna.

"Loopy Cranium Heckulls," repeated Luna. "Each particular clan affects their victim's behaviour in a certain manner. Perhaps the clan that have built up their nest in the Slytherin dorms causes them to be homicidal?"

The rest of us just shook our heads and looked away. "Wish we could've gone to the Great Hall though, better food and all."

Cho rolled her eyes. "Not likely – they wouldn't want us turning up in the middle of the Sorting Ceremony or Dumbledore's speech. Bad impression and all."

"Still…"

McGonagall appeared again. "I have a message from the Headmaster," she declared, and we all sat up. "Unfortunately, Inter-House Quidditch will be cancelled-"

"What?" I shot up out of my seat, as did Cho.

"Allow me to finish!" thundered McGonagall. We sat down again. "Now, as I was saying, there will be no Quidditch this year because another, more _important_ year-long tournament will be occurring." She looked about her as if checking for eavesdroppers. "Instead, the Triwizard Tournament will be held _right here_ at Hogwarts!" She declared, although her cheer seemed a little forced.

"The Triwizard Tournament? As in the one that got discontinued because a _Basilisk_ accidentally killed the judges?" I deadpanned, a little incredulous.

She paled. "Um, yes, but there won't be any Basilisks this time round. There _is_ an age-restriction, as it is – only those that are seventeen or older may participate."

"Whaaat? But I wanted to enter it…" Ron grumbled a little but we could tell he wasn't really all that serious. The Triwizard Tournament – even if they hadn't been staged for a great many years – was renowned for the perils involved.

"So what schools are coming?" asked Cho.

"Well, we _were_ inviting Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, but it seems Durmstrang seemed a little unwilling to participate this time round…"

Neville sighed and shifted in his seat. "Probably because this school has a record of either making or breaking Dark Lords…" he muttered. "Considering Durmstrang's a bit of a Dark school…"

"Mr Longbottom, gossip is _not_ encouraged at this school."

He shrugged.

"As I was saying, Durmstrang will not be coming this year. In their place will be…" She turned to regard Ron, Neville, Ginny, Luna and I with a more enthusiastic smile. "…Washington State Wizarding and Witchcraft Academy! I hear that Miss Granger, as well as several other underage students will be accompanying their nominated contestants. Beauxbatons is also bringing along a few of their juniors," she added, almost as an afterthought.

"Really? Hermione's coming back to Hogwarts?" Ron half-shouted, quite excited.

"Yes, Mr Weasley. Now, if you could please refrain from shouting…"

"Sorry," he muttered.

McGonagall glanced at the clock on the wall. "Well, if you've had enough, it's time for you to go back to your dorms." Cho nodded and she left with Luna, while we waited for Ron to grab a few more sandwiches 'for the road', or so he said.

When Cho had gone, McGonagall turned to the remaining four of us. "The password is '_Secretus Objectum_'." We nodded and then left, hurrying towards Gryffindor Tower.

When we entered the common room, we noticed that nobody was there. "We must be early," murmured Neville. The fireplaces lit themselves as we entered, as did the candles in the chandeliers.

"Well, good night." I said to Ginny.

"You too."

The three of us (Neville, Ron and I) ascended the stairs to the fourth landing.

"Ah… nice… soft… bed…" I collapsed onto my bed.

"Heh, you got that right." Ron lay on his bed, leaning against his pillow, eating his last sandwich.

Neville looked up at the both of us from where he was kneeling next to his trunk. "Honestly, Ron, eating in bed? You'll attract rats like that, if you aren't careful."

Ron shrugged. "The house elves clean it up, so it's all cool."

"Yeah, but you have to sleep in the crumbs for a night. And what if that's all it takes for rats and cockroaches to turn up?" Neville was disgusted, as was I.

"Well, your choice. I for one am warding my things." Neville pulled out from his trunk a small glass tank, which seemed to be full of some sort of tentacle-like weed that gyrated in the water. He placed the tank on the windowsill that was behind his four-poster. He looked at the arrangement, then took down the tank, tapped the windowsill and applied a Space Stretching charm. Neville then put the tank back on the enlarged windowsill, hopped off of his bed and began pulling out more tanks from his trunk.

"Gran told me that if I could keep all of these plants alive – and breed them, if possible – for the entire of the year, then she'd let me get a glasshouse for myself." He sighed happily, then pulled out of his pocket a smaller plant. "_Mimbulus mimbletonia_," he informed us rather proudly. "Great Uncle Algie got it shipped in for me from one of his friends in Assyria. Apparently it's really rare, so I'm going to try and breed it. I'm going to see if Professor Sprout's got any tips, and maybe I could grow it for extra credit next year."

"Ah. That's… interesting." I said diplomatically. It was a particularly repulsive looking plant – for some reason, almost all magical plants were like that – and its capabilities were rather… distasteful.

"Does it do anything?" Asked Ron, in an attempt to seem interested in Neville's favourite pastime, Herbology.

"Of course! It's got this amazing defence mechanism. Do any of you have a quill? I'll show you-"

"Er, actually, Neville? I'd rather if you did it if it was uh… _inside_ of a tank." I suggested, and he frowned in thought.

"Oh, whoops. I suppose that _is_ an intelligent thing to do." He lowered the _Mimbulus mimbletonia_ into a tank, put a quill in and sealed the tank. Neville picked up his wand, pointed it at the quill, and used a Moving spell to make it jab the plant.

Liquid spurted from every boil on the plant, thick, dark-green liquid that splashed against the sides of the tank rather violently. From the outside, it was if someone had suddenly painted the inside green – you couldn't even see a vague outline of the plant.

"Er…" Ron blinked. "I suppose it was good that you had it in a tank?"

Neville nodded vigorously. "Remind me never to do that while it's _outside_ of the tank." He gingerly opened the tank, cleaned the tank, removed the quill and resealed the tank again. That tank joined the others up on the sill.

"God, if only Crabbe had tried to do that on the train…"

"We'd have gotten splattered too, Ron." I pointed out, and he shrugged.

"But it would've been funny. Oh wait, we would have looked pretty crap too. Ah."

"Dumb ass."

"I am _not_ a dumb ass!"

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Are… oh forget it." I rolled my eyes. I got up from my bed, and laid a hand on my trunk. It had actually been Harry's, but after everything that had happened, I had gotten possession of it. Opening the sorcerer's trunk to the first compartment, I pulled out my toothbrush, toothpaste and a cup.

The door opened, and Seamus, Dean and Henry stepped in. "Jeremy? Ron? Neville? Where were you? We saw Goyle try to threaten Cho or something, and then you lot disappeared."

"Ah, here and there. Crabbe tried to kill us, and Dumbledore had him expelled."

"Really?"

"He tried to _kill_ you?" Henry was shocked.

"Uh-huh. And Fudge says he's going to try and keep him in Azkaban for as long as possible."

"Freaking Boy-Who-Lived…" muttered Seamus, but he grinned. "Well, it seems like none of you are _dead_, so I guess all's well that ends well."

"Yeah – but hearing Crabbe and Goyle actually _speak_ almost gave me a heart attack."

"I _know_! Who knew they could actually think?"

Laughter, and we continued to chatter about Crabbe and Goyle, Neville's make-shift glasshouse, the Triwizard Tournament and when the other schools were – or more specifically, when Hermione was – arriving.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Author's Notes:

1. Hair – Crabbe's fist had enough 'energy' that if he were to swing his fist, it could cut through solid rock like well, a hot knife through butter. Here, all that's blocking his fist is Jeremy's hair, and off goes the top of his beautiful locks…

2. Quibbler – I mean, seriously, reading the magazine would probably make you liable to getting beaten up. So why not provide your readership with a tool of self-defence?

3. Prefect – I was going to have Percy be the prefect, but then I realised that this was in the Goblet of Fire period. And Percy's gone and graduated. So it had to be someone who was in fifth year or above, and Cho's well, in fifth year in GoF timeline. And I do believe she's a prefect. I think.

4. Loopy Cranium Heckulls – creatures that are a little like bees in that they have a hive mentality. Each hive generally brings a unique 'mental instability' to their victims. If they exist, that is.

5. Juniors – in the movie for GoF, Fleur's little sister Gabrielle tags along for some really odd reason. Perhaps it was the script writers' way of filling in a little bit of farfetchedness in the novel (where Gabrielle appeared from seemingly nowhere). For this AU, everyone's bringing their flunkies, and Hermione's one of the juniors that are coming.

6. Tanks – in canon, he seems more like an afterthought that brings some depth to some parts of the story. In this AU, Neville is actually friends with the main characters. As such, Neville has started to chase after the things he wants, and that includes pursuing his 'hobby' of Herbology. The _Mimbulus mimbletonia_ makes an early appearance (in canon, it appears in OotP).

7. Trunk – Harry's possessions were obviously returned to the Potter family. Jeremy decided that if no-one was going to use Harry's sorcerers' trunk, he'd take it for himself.

8. Henry (Other-Harry) – he isn't playing much of a major part just yet, but rest assured that he will come into the spotlight in the next chapter.

9. I'm being cheap here, and now… Harry has his magic back? What the? Do note that I'm not actually being 'weak' – there is a specific difference between regaining his magic and the situation Harry finds himself in now. This is significant to the plot in the third arc, so keep reading!

10. I made a mistake about the etymology for Jeremy. At least, Jeremy _may_ be an evolution of Jerome, but the base is more likely to be 'Jeremiah'. Jeremiah the Prophet was originally protected during his early years of being a prophet, but with the death of King Josiah of Judah (his 'connection' in high places), his position as a prophet led to him being vilified by the religious and civil leaders that came into power. In DOT, this parallel will be explored to a greater degree, but I can't say too much or I won't be able to shock you with my next plot twist!

11. Forgot to do the etymology for Henry, so here it is – According to tradition, Nicholas Breakspear, an English cardinal who became Pope Adrian IV, encouraged the Swedish king Eric to cross the Baltic with a strong force in 1155. His goal was not only to convert the heathen but also to gain economic and political ends. King Eric defeated the Finnish tribes but was not able to make his conquest permanent. An English clergyman, Henry, who had been bishop of Uppsala in Sweden, remained in Finland. He was slain within the year and subsequently became the patron saint of the city of Åbo (Turku in Finnish) and of all the Finns.


	18. 18 Culminate

**Desiring Other Times**

Chapter 18 – Culminate

Disclaimer: You are about to enter an alternate universe, one which may seem vaguely familiar but also different. This universe follows the story of 'What if the Boy-Who-Lived had a twin brother who was the Chosen One?' As such, this is _not_ 'Harry Potter is the BWL and the CO', but I still don't own either one.

A/N: Harry may seem to disappear from this arc because, well, he isn't at Hogwarts and that's where all the action happens, no? Don't flame me saying that this is just a story where Harry is merely called something different, because there _is_ a difference. Harry _will_ play an important role to the plot, maybe not in this arc but definitely in the next arc.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

_For a life filled with trials and tribulations, one would think that it would only be fair that once all those troubles have passed, the poor victim would enter a lengthy period of good health, great wealth and unsurpassable cheer. But Life isn't fair, or at least it isn't doing a very good job at it. _

_Please, if you're listening, be you angel or demon or god, please… give my brother a break, will you?_

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The next morning, I awoke to find that a pile of presents had practically swamped my trunk.

"Er, what?" I shifted a few, and some others tipped over to land on the ground.

"It's not your birthday, is it?" Ron rubbed at his eyes, clearing the sleep from the corners.

"Um, no?" Spotting a card attached to a parcel, I pried it open.

_Dearest Jeremy Potter,_ I read aloud.

_It was with much distress that I read the missive that informed me that an assassination attempt had been carried out on your person. _

"Missive? What the?"

"Probably the newspaper, Jeremy. Whoever it is, they're trying to make them sound 'closer' to you, or something…" Seamus peered over my shoulder at the letter.

Ron pouted. "Why is it that only _Jeremy _gets presents? I mean, it wasn't just _him_ that got almost killed!"

I sighed. "I don't want all this," I said as I tossed the card aside. "Help me open them. I'm assuming that Dumbledore's gone through all of these, so they should be safe-"

At that moment, Dean pulled a ribbon and a parcel fell open, and a puff of hot air and sparks flew up.

"Shit!" He tossed the parcel onto my bed and backed away quickly.

"Okay, so maybe he hasn't gone through them…" I pulled out my wand and prodded at the parcel Dean had just opened. More sparks floated up from the box, and they all whirled together, then apart, spelling out a message above my bed.

"To my love, Jeremy Potter?" I read aloud, then banished the sparkling message with a quick wave of my wand. "Great Merlin, what's in the rest of them?"

Inside the parcel was… a Sneakoscope. "Well, at least the present's _useful_," I murmured, a little grudgingly.

"Ah, who knew you had so many fans, Jeremy?" Henry picked up a few parcels, shook them, then tossed them to the others. Sometimes he opened one up himself, and they always seemed to be rather strange presents, like a cape that could be commanded to bind someone up.

"Gee, if Dumbledore's been through these, why the hell did he let you keep _this_?" He held up something that looked like a clay pot, the sort the Ancients used to keep wine in. Runes were carved into the surface, winding about the round smooth exterior.

"What the _hell_ is that?" Seamus reached out, but Henry lifted it above his head.

"I wouldn't touch it if I were you. Here," he held it out to me. "They're supposed to recognise the person who first touches it, then they turn into some wacky colour." I looked at him a little suspiciously, but picked it up from the wrapping he had between his hands and the pot.

The moment I touched it, it glowed a brilliant white. "Argh! My eyes!" We all flung our arms up to shield our eyes, and waited for the light to die away.

When it had and we could see again, we noticed that the pot was now a much deeper, almost bloodier red than it had been before. As I tilted it this way and that to have a better look at the runes, the smooth surface reflected the light so that parts of it were cast in a liquid sheen.

"Pretty, but what does it do?" I looked at Henry, wondering if in all his travels back 'home', he knew more about this… whatever it was, other than it would change colours.

"Er, not much." He glanced shiftily at the others, then continued to rummage through the presents. "Well, _apparently_ it works like a Foe Glass… I'm not sure how, but…"

Cautiously, I inched the lid off of the pot, and almost dropped it in shock when a thick smoky mist wafted out of it. "What the…!" I cursed and hurriedly set the pot down. More smoke came out of the clay-like receptacle, until a rather large cloud of it hovered in the middle of the dorm.

"Er… I suppose that's how it shows you your enemies?" Henry stepped about the smoke cloud, which suddenly warped and turned into several ghostly figures that walked without moving an inch and talked and argued and sat or whatever it was they did.

"Look, there's Crabbe!" Neville pointed out a hulking figure that looked as if it was leaning against something, like a stone wall. The Crabbe-ghost had its eyes closed, and as the lot of us peered closer, its eyes snapped open.

"Shit! God, that's bad for the heart…" cursed Dean as he leapt back, clutching theatrically at his chest.

"I don't think he can see us…" Ron waved a hand through Crabbe-ghost's head, and the smoke parted smoothly

"So what, these are like, holograms of my enemies?"

"Holo-whatsits?"

"Holograms- oh, for the love of God… _projections_, representations, whatever." I replied rather testily to Ron's question. Sometimes I wished the wizards would just take a few lessons about Muggle technology – it might knock them down a few pegs, and it would lead to far more productive conversations.

Henry shrugged. "Probably. But this really isn't much of an improvement on a Foe Glass… Hang on…" Henry frowned at the Crabbe-ghost, who was now clutching his head in agony. "What on earth…?"

Ron looked at his hand, then at Crabbe-ghost's head, then back to his hand again. "Er, maybe when I put my hand through his head…?" He trailed off when Crabbe-ghost went into convulsions. "Crap, I _killed_ him!" He seemed more worried with the fact that he might have murdered someone than the fact that Crabbe seemed to be dying.

"Okay, I take that back," muttered Henry. "It _is_ a little more useful... I wonder…" He trailed off, ignoring the plight of Crabbe-ghost. Instead, he searched through all the figures (more and more were forming), until he finally found what he was looking for. "Hey, look! It's Vold- You-Know-Who!"

The other boys started shouting (they wouldn't _scream_ of course, or at least they would insist that they didn't) and trying to hustle out of the room _and_ satiate their morbid curiosity. "Where?" I tried to look where Henry was looking, and he pointed.

"There."

"Great Merlin, he looks terrible." And he did. Voldemort was still as monstrous as he had been when I had last seen him, but I wasn't sure if it was the Foe-Pot's smoke that made him seem more solid than before, or if he truly was becoming corporeal. "Reckon if I stick my hand through his head he'll cark it like Crabbe seems to be doing?"

Henry shrugged, while Ron looked quite distressed that we weren't paying attention to the fact the he had just _killed_ someone. But then Crabbe-ghost stopped writhing in midair, and merely lay there, breathing deeply (we couldn't hear it, but the smoky figure's chest rose and fell sharply).

"Damn…" I muttered, a little disappointed. "Ah well, let's see what happens…" I stuck out a hand, then swung it sharply through Voldemort-ghost, using the blade of my hand to figuratively slice him from head to toe.

For a few seconds, nothing happened. And then Voldemort-ghost slapped a clawed hand to its head, but the image only lasted for a split second before the pot suddenly burst into a burning brilliance, as if the sun had been catapulted into our dorm. For a few moments, we blinked away tears and tried to see what had just happened. The pot was gone, as were the ghosts.

"Whoops…"

Silence.

"Wonder if there's another one in there?"

As one, we reached for the parcels when a sharp, scraping voice screeched at us. Well, me.

"_Potterrrr!_" The voice cried and we all shuddered. Then the others really started screaming and dashed for the door, for a smoky figure started to coalesce in the middle of the room, where the Foe-Pot had been. The figure rippled, then formed into a rather ghastly looking figure – one I would not have been able to recognise had I not just seen him in the Foe Pot's smoke just moments ago.

"Voldemort!" I cried, and backed away, stumbling on the back of my robes and falling rather ungainly to the floor.

Henry stood, a little crouched, scowling at Voldemort.

Voldemort seemed to dismiss Henry, thinking him a foolhardy young boy that was hardly worth his time. He focussed on me and floated closer, a menacing ghoul that was steadily losing his earlier rather gremlin-like look (that we saw in the Foe-Pot) and reverting to the ghostly form Harry had described and shown to Mum and Dad and me.

"Meddling Potters…" he hissed and reared back, as if preparing to rush me.

"Yes, _plural_ works best." Henry had his wand out, levelled at Voldemort.

"Plural?" Voldemort's head swivelled about, but Henry was already halfway through his spell.

"_Fragmentus Segmentus Spiritus!_" He cried, and a part of me quirked an eyebrow at such a long spell. And what the hell did it mean? Fragmented Segment of Spirit? Fragment the Spirit Segment? Eh?

Voldemort bellowed in anger, and the mist he was made of split apart to let the ball of hot pink magic shoot through him – it blasted chunks of stone out of the wall instead. "You won't get me so easily, insolent child!" He cackled, and the hole in his 'chest' disappeared as he reformed again.

Henry gaped – I assumed nothing of this sort had happened when he had fought _his _Voldemort. Meanwhile, the wall started to crumple, and the ceiling creaked ominously.

"Neither you nor Dumbledore will ever be able to erase me!" were Voldemort's parting words as he disappeared through the window. As he left, dust began falling from the groaning ceiling.

"What. The. Heck. Was. That!" I demanded of Henry, shouting as we stumbled to the door, coughing on the dust that had come from his partial demolition of our dorm.

"Shit!" Henry tackled me, and we went tumbling and rolling to the door, across the landing and down the stairs. Behind, a gargantuan booming crashing sound chased us out of the dorm. More people were screaming, but I couldn't hear them, as if Henry and I were tumbling down the winding stairs so fast that a layer of air cocooned me.

We came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, and several other students stampeded over the two of us. My elbows and knees had already become a little scraped as I had tumbled down from the fourth landing, but the heavy, thunderous feet of fifth, sixth and seventh year students added bruises and possibly some fractured bones to the mix.

All of a sudden, all the roaring and crashing of the tower falling into well, _bits_, all of it stopped. There wasn't silence, though, as a few small chunks of stone continued to pebble about us, and a lot of the students were still screaming and shouting. The Fat Lady's portrait hung wide open and students flooded out of it. A couple of professors forced their way in, and all of them pointed their wands up at the main structure of the tower, murmuring spells under their breaths.

Dumbledore wasn't among them, but I assumed he was probably wherever he needed to be to do whatever it was he needed to do. Steady the wards, perhaps. Be outside steadying the tower, or something like that.

Henry and I stumbled to our feet and raced for the portrait, past the staff, a couple of shell-shocked and fear-frozen students, and out into the main corridor.

"Mother of Merlin, what on earth happened up there?"

"I have absolutely no idea."

"I wasn't asking _you_."

Dean and Seamus bickered, while Neville peered worriedly at Henry and me. "Jeremy? Henry? Are you okay?"

Gasping, I nodded weakly. "Y-yeah, we'll be fine. No thanks to _you_," I hissed the last bit at Henry.

"Shut up. I wasn't expecting him to be able to do _that_." He shot back, referring to how Voldemort had, in his ghostly form, managed to avoid the… well, the _whatever_ Henry had fire at him.

Quite a lot of time passed, and all of the school had been shunted into the Great Hall, in case whatever had happened might be only the first in a barrage of attacks on Hogwarts.

"Professor?" Dean waved his hand at McGonagall, a little too fast for Henry to stop him.

"We are in so much trouble," he murmured as McGonagall approached, glancing a little suspiciously at me.

"You got that right…" I replied, sotto voce.

Ten minutes later, Henry and I were in Dumbledore's office.

"You received a Foe Pot in the presents, tried to damage Voldemort through it, which resulted in his penetration into Hogwarts." Dumbledore went down the list, and the both of us cringed. "Then you attacked him – I'd like to know with _what_! – and destroyed Gryffindor Tower!" This was first time I had seen him practically lose control of his temper – he was that irate.

We blinked at him. Destroyed? Gryffindor Tower?

Dumbledore sighed, pulled out a piece of parchment, tapped it once, twice, three times and the parchment turned into a sort of screen. "This is Gryffindor Tower. Or at least, what's left of it." The parchment showed a crumbling ruin attached to the castle, with only the level with the first years' dorms and the levels below it still (sort of) intact.

"Just what do you think you're doing? What did you do to make Gryffindor Tower fall!" He demanded, then paused. Dumbledore breathed in deeply, then sat back down.

"I…" Henry began, and Dumbledore seemed to frown a little. Perhaps he had been expecting me to speak. "I used the _Fragmentus Segmentus Spiritus_ spell on him."

Dumbledore's eyes widened. "You… _you_… you _what_?" He cried, very shocked. "How… how in…?"

Henry sighed. "I guess it's a long story. My name isn't Henry Gates, it's Harry Potter. Not your Harry Potter," he added, when McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, Sprout and Dumbledore all looked as if they were about to dispute that. "Another Harry Potter. From… from another dimension."

Sprout sat down heavily on a chair, and McGonagall braced herself on the fireplace mantel. Snape and Flitwick stood frozen, although Snape seemed to sway a little. Dumbledore sat frozen in his chair.

"Another… dimension? How did…"

"I tried to go back in time. But it sent me into this dimension, where Harry's twin is the Chosen One. Where his parents are alive. Where Peter Pettigrew is dead and Sirius Black is innocent."

"…of what?" Snape muttered, a little acidly. Flitwick make a shushing noise and flapped his hand at him.

"I'm… well, my universe is quite different to yours. This one, I mean. I didn't have a twin, and my parents died… that night. Lots of things were… are different."

"Why did you try to go back in time?"

"I'd… well, I'd defeated Voldemort… but practically everyone was dead. I made mistakes. Lots of them. So I tried to go back and do it all over again."

"Idiot boy – arrogant Potters…" hissed Snape. "Did it even occur to you that _the other side_ could have done the very same, if it were at all possible?"

Henry shook his head emphatically. "No, they couldn't have." He clarified. "There were several… inimitable circumstances that only I had the opportunity to exploit."

"That doesn't explain what went wrong." commented McGonagall dryly.

"I suppose not. But I _did_ manage to well, uh… go back in the relative timeline, to when Harry Potter was still at Hogwarts. That part worked, I just… ended up in the wrong lane of the parallel universes, so to speak."

"I see…" Dumbledore was about to say more when the door slammed open.

"I hear you have the one responsible for the damage, Albus." Fudge stood there in all his pompousness, flanked by Aurors. "I take it this is him?" He looked pointedly at Henry after he had seen and discarded me as a potential culprit.

Silence. Henry looked a little panicked – one hand was plunged into his right-hand robe pocket, clutching and fumbling for something, as if it were caught in the lining.

"Er, n-" Dumbledore began, but Fudge had already pointed at Henry and nodded sharply at the Aurors.

"Arrest that student!" He cried, and the Aurors rushed forward, wands out. Henry stumbled backwards, pulling out something that looked like an eggcup. Waving one hand, the cup expanded into…

"The Grail!" Dumbledore and Snape cried out aloud, in unison. McGonagall, Flitwick and Sprout had their wands out and were pointing sometimes at the Aurors, sometimes at Henry.

"Boy, you are arrested for attempted mass murder, severe property damage and theft of a Magical icon!" Fudge declared a little _too_ cheerfully.

"I didn't steal it!" shouted Henry a little hysterically. His left hand fumbled with his wand, and on the second swish a jet of water shot into the Grail.

"Then explain how you come to have it!"

"Damn Potters!" bellowed Snape. "That _squib _must have taken it!" He cried as he also pulled out his wand.

"What? Harry Potter?" Confused, Fudge spun about looking at his Aurors for clarification/confirmation, then at Dumbledore, then at Snape, then back around again.

Henry frowned in concentration, dipped his fingers into the water then whipped his hand out so that the water splashed on the Aurors about him. Almost immediately, the Aurors' clothing turned into stone, leaving the poor wizards and witches encased in stone restraints.

"Get back!" Henry dipped his fingers into the Grail again, lifting a little water up. "Next one to move gets transmuted into a rock!"

Everyone froze, as if they had all been turned into statues.

"Alright, I want all of you that are holding wands to drop them. If you've got your hands inside your pockets, take them out _slowly_." We did as he told us. "Everyone over there, by the window." We shuffled to the window, and Henry moved at the same time so that he was backing towards the door.

Henry frowned. Then cupped his palm, lifted up some water and swung it at the floor between us. A stone wall rose up, sealing us off from him and the exit.

"Prepare to blast!" The Aurors that still had their wands lifted their arms up. "Fire!" Jets of deep blue (almost purple) magic shot at the wall, and the magic beams fought against the stone, then blasted through with an almighty explosion. Dumbledore managed to get up a shield to reflect the bits of stone that shot in our direction, but the rest of his office wasn't so fortunate.

"After him!" The Aurors crashed through the door, and thundered down the stairs. Fudge paused at the door. "Mark my words, Albus – we'll catch him. He won't be destroying so much as a stone when he's in Azkaban!" Then he disappeared after his Aurors.

Dumbledore sighed and crumpled into his chair.

"He had the Grail."

"Harry must have kept it that night."

"Arrogant…"

"Severus!"

"What does he think he can do? The Ministry isn't going to stop chasing him."

Dumbledore sighed. "I don't know Minerva. Mr Potter," he turned to look at me. "Perhaps you can clue us in to any other… artefacts that your brother possessed that may or may not have been… redistributed."

I shuffled nervously. "Well, there's the sphere…" Dumbledore's eyes lit up, as did Snape's.

"The Sphere? You have it?"

I nodded. Closing my eyes, I called up a few memories of the Sphere and _tugged_. The professors gasped, and I opened my eyes. The sphere hovered near my forearm, glowing as intensely as it had a month ago, half a year ago, even as strongly as it had been two years ago.

"Well? Anything _else_ your illustrious brother may have _stolen_?"

I shook my head. "I don't think so." Flitwick was peering intently at the sphere, but Snape leaned down to inform him of the safety mechanism the sphere had demonstrated the last time Dumbledore had come into contact with it.

At that moment, an owl swooped in through the window. It was a rather regal looking owl, one that shot straight at Dumbledore and landed on his arm. Holding out an equally officious looking scroll, it glared piercingly at the rest of us, as if being insulted that it had to put up with our presence.

Dumbledore tugged the scroll out, and read it, growing increasingly pale. "It seems news travels fast, Mr Potter. The Head of the School Governors Board-"

"Lucius Malfoy…" hissed Sprout.

"-yes, Lucius Malfoy, it seems that he has heard from _somebody_-"

"That gossiping Minister…" Snape raised a fisted hand and brought it back down, as if dearly wishing to hit something.

Dumbledore continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. "-that _you_ are implicated in the situation." He looked at me over his half-moon spectacles, over the letter. "And all of the Governors have signed his petition for you to be… expelled."

McGonagall's eyes widened, as did Flitwick's and Sprout's. Snape seemed to be wrestling with the intense joy he was feeling, trying to prevent it from spreading onto his face.

"…no…" I whispered hoarsely. "They… they _can't_!"

"Conceited child – did you really think that everyone will do as you wish just because of some silly _scar_ on your head?"

"Definitely not after I met you!" I fired back at Snape.

"Severus! Jeremy…" Dumbledore chided. "The two of you know better than that."

I wasn't listening, I was crumpled on the stone floor of Dumbledore's office. Expelled, expelled, expelled – the word rang through my head, whispering hungrily in my ear, taunting me in all sorts of voices, from Dumbledore's to Voldemort's to Malfoy's to…

Dad's?

"_Expelled_?!"

What? When did he get here? I glanced at my watch, and to my shock it had been almost ten minutes after Henry had fled the office.

"I will not allow my child to be expelled from Hogwarts!"

"James-"

"No! I'm taking this to the board!"

"How fortunate, Mr Potter." Lucius Malfoy stood in the doorway, surveying the damage that had been done to the office. "For it seems I am here on their behalf. Is there… anything you wished to discuss about your son's impending… change in status?"

Dad's face was twisted in fury, but then something seemed to click in his mind, and his expression smoothed out into something that was a little… smug? "Actually, I think I'll… _withdraw_ my son's enrolment at this institution. You know as well as – perhaps better than anyone that _withdrawing_ a student from a school just happens to be… immediate, while _expulsion_ takes… a week." Dad alluded to how the extremist pure bloods always seemed to have children that got into trouble, and when threatened with expulsion, the Board of School Governors would say that the rules stated that withdrawal could be without notice and was effective immediately, while expulsion was not – this allowed for their children to continue school elsewhere, without having their magical license revoked.

Lucius' eyes narrowed. "Very well, Mr Potter. But do remember that if your son is unable to gain a position at… another institution, his license will still be revoked." His tone seemed to hint at more trouble – perhaps he would make it impossible for me to get enrolled at another school?

Dumbledore looked forlorn, while I picked at the bit on my robes where the Gryffindor emblem had been (it had disappeared the moment said he was withdrawing me from Hogwarts, and my tie had reverted to silky black).

"I'll have your things returned to you in due course, Mr Potter." Dumbledore told me.

"Okay," I murmured in a small voice. Not expelled, but still leaving Hogwarts. Leaving Hogwarts. Going elsewhere. Never in all my life had I contemplated being in such a situation – Hogwarts had been my one and only choice.

I trailed after dad, shuffling out of the office and into the corridor. Dad didn't say anything, but I could practically feel the aura of disappointment emanating from him.

"Your mother couldn't come – she got held back at the Ministry." He informed me rather clinically. "I left Matthew with the Pockets."

"What…" I swallowed around the lump in my throat. "What about Harry?"

"What about him?"

"Does… does he know?" I asked, for lack of a better question.

"Does he know that you almost killed yourself? That you ended up in a situation as perilous as _that time_ and got yourself expelled?"

"I-"

"It's as good as being expelled, having to withdraw you." Uttered dad rather scathingly, as he stormed towards the Entrance Hall. "First _morning_ back and you destroy Gryffindor Tower… Honestly!"

We exited the castle, and he led me to the Portkey Portal. Our family car was parked a little off from it, and we got into the car. Dad slammed the door rather forcefully, and the car shuddered.

The drive home was silent, and Dad left me next to the car, struggling with the trunk.

"Don't know what I'm going to do with you!"

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Author's Notes: Angst not going down well with you lot? I dunno, doesn't that make it sound like you guys fear being emotional? Ah well, the angst is almost over, we've just got to slog our way through Jeremy getting 'expelled', him transferring over to the school Hermione's currently going to, a whole bunch of Magical people deciding that if the Boy-Who-Lived thinks Hogwarts isn't good enough, then it isn't good enough for them… some anger in the Potter household, the Renaissance of the Dark Lord – whoops, I didn't say that!

1. Foe Pot – ok, you remember the Ancient Romans? And how they used to store liquid things in clay pots? Take one of those amphorae and voila, you have the beginnings of (what looks like) a Foe Pot! Step two: carve in random runes on the surface so that there are several rings of runes circling the pot (you reckon I have a thing with circles?). Now, the magic! Okay, the first person who touches it after it's made: the pot gets calibrated to them (flashy colours and all). Afterwards, remove lid, and out come these smoke ghosts that show your foes and what they're doing – stick your hand through one of 'em and you cause them a world of pain. The whole 'foe' classification is very specific, and it will explain why Jeremy or Harry haven't been attacked by this method (if I decide to release the 'programming code').

2. Fragmentus Segmentus Spiritus – Fragmentus is a corruption of the Latin word 'fragmentum' (the root for 'fragment'), which is derived from the word 'frangere', meaning 'break'. Segmentus is a corruption of 'segmentum' (the root for 'segment'), derived from 'secare', meaning 'to cut'. Spiritus is the Latin word for 'breath', and is the root of 'spirit'.

3. Pulling a student out of a school before they are expelled doesn't really happen much in the Muggle world because (I hope) the schools aren't so corrupt. Here, there is a sort of… lengthy process through which the administration must go through before a student can be expelled, while pulling a student out of the school is effective immediately. This avoids any official ramifications of having been expelled (magical license revoked, wand snapped, unable to take up any 'real' jobs, etc.), and saves some face. James is just pulling a Malfoy, so to speak.

4. James – ah, he's getting pissed. After several years of worrying about Harry, now Jeremy starts acting up and he's gotten himself into so much trouble in his first few hours back at Hogwarts that he almost got expelled! Of course he'd be angry!

I know a lot of you expect me to have this story follow something like 'Harry gets powerful, Harry falls in love, Harry defeats Voldemort, Harry prevents Dumbledore from throwing him in Azkaban, Harry takes Dumbledore's place, Harry marries love (or enters a civil union), Harry lives happily ever after'. Well, that's _not_ what's going to happen. Maybe he'll fall in love and marry them. Maybe he'll become empowered (actually, he will, but in a Muggle sense). But this isn't a Super Harry Beats Voldemort and Dumbledore and Anyone Who Ever Said Anything Bad About Him story.

This is, and will continue to be, a DollarSign-hit happens story, being as out there yet still vaguely realistic as possible. Things will happen that might not seem to be the 'best' for the story, but did Osama bin Laden consult George Bush on terrorism and if it fit into the story Bush wanted (and wants) to spin? There's realism, and then there's _real_ realism in stories – although it will still have those Isn't-It-Convenient moments like how the three pivotal roles 'just happen' to be held by three brothers. That is a tip of the (cynical) hat to J. K. Rowling, and all other fiction authors.


	19. 19 Parcae

**Desiring Other Times**

Chapter 19 – Parcae

Disclaimer: For the love of (insert name of deity), are _any_ of you stupid enough to think I own Harry Potter? Anyone?

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_One does not love a place the less for having suffered in it, unless it has all been suffering, nothing but suffering._

Jane Austen

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They say that 'Life is a jest; and all things show it.' Or, that 'Life is just one damned thing after another.' Personally, I agree more with the latter interpretation of our mournful existence on this earth, but perhaps it is more applicable to Harry's life. Almost killed by Voldemort when we were barely a year old, then again when he was eleven, then losing his magic… the worst that has happened to _me_ was that I was present that night thirteen years ago, and just got expelled – okay, _withdrawn_ from Hogwarts. My troubles are hardly anything against his – and to think I'm his elder brother, even if only by a few minutes.

Mum and Dad really laid into me when I got home, but it was still like that time when they had to choose another school for Harry, except they didn't get so angry at him, for obvious reasons. Almost immediately after they finished shouting at me (I think what little ice had formed on the roof had cracked and shattered from their volume), they began discussing which school to send me to.

"…State College?"

A shaking head. "No, they're not as accredited as others."

A pause. That had been their fifth suggestion, ranging from all sorts of respectable but more _local_ schools of magic.

Mum sighed. "Well, if you're going to shoot down every school in Europe that I've suggested-"

"How about Australia?"

"Too far."

Silence. "America?"

Mum sighed, again. "Which one? There's so many."

"Er… how about the one that Hermione girl, the Muggle, the one she's going to?"

"Ah." A little bit of satisfaction entered Mum's voice. "Muggle courses as well…"

"And he'd have a friend to help him settle in. Responsible, like you." Dad's voice turned sly.

"That… would be acceptable, I believe." She tried to keep the pleasure at the compliment out of her voice but even I could hear it, despite the heavy melancholy that had settled onto me.

I sighed, and leaned my head against the window. So Malfoy had somehow heard that the destruction of Gryffindor Tower was somehow linked to me and Henry… and he'd convinced the Board that I should be expelled for the incredibly catastrophic damage. It wasn't as if Dumbledore could do anything less – we _had_ partially destroyed one of the Wizarding's monuments, and it would be remembered for decades onwards that the 'Chosen One' had accidentally reduced Gryffindor Tower to rubble.

That is, if word got out – and considering Malfoy's rather malicious mindset, the media were probably already rolling off the first editions of the latest News Flash. All in all, getting out of the country seemed like a very good idea.

But what about the Triwizard Tournament? After, well, the latest mess I had perpetrated, surely the Tournament wouldn't still be held at Hogwarts? I shook my head – it really wasn't any of my business, in the end. The Tournament was for students past their majority, and I certainly didn't pass that requirement.

"Jeremy? Come here, now." I turned and shuffled over to where Mum and Dad were looking at me rather sternly.

I could feel my torso stiffening with tension as part of my mind ran through all sorts of emotional guilt trips my parents were sure to put me through before finally closing up the conversation. The chill of anticipated fear thrummed through my veins and another part of me (the cynical part, this time) wondered just how I would ever be able to face up against Voldemort if I was this scared of my own parents.

_Because I care about them, and what they think of me._

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"…and due to some, uh, unexpected construction work being conducted at Hogwarts, the Triwizard Tournament has been rescheduled to later this year, and will be held here at Washington State Wizarding and Witchcraft Academy!" Cheers and raucous celebration reverberated about the hall, with murmuring gossip and some disappointed barracking taking a backseat in terms of volume.

The Headmistress of Washing State Academy had glanced at Jeremy during her announcement, and he had frozen when he realised that despite the fact that Dumbledore had pinned all the blame on Henry, there were people that knew that he had still been somewhat _involved_ in the situation, so to speak.

Perhaps Headmistress Belinda Eckhard had been immensely curious (as humans are wont to be) as to _why_ the Chosen One would cross the seas to attend school in another continent. It wouldn't be unreasonable to wonder – after all, if he had been any other student, she would have been instantly suspicious that said student had been behind some horrible disaster (or at least a rather salacious scandal).

Hermione hadn't been clued in as to _why_ Jeremy was there (Dumbledore and Jeremy's parents had invented some complicated 'security issue' to explain to the media just why the Boy-Who-Lived was transferring to an American college), so she had been rather ecstatic that he would be joining her at the Washington State Academy. A hug later (and some internal promises on Jeremy's part to _never_ mention that to Ron), Hermione had proceeded to show him about the college.

It wasn't an old established academic institution like Hogwarts – in fact, it had only been around for a hundred years. The United States Muggle government had a surprisingly large amount of power over the Magical community – this was due to the relative youth of 'white' America compared to Britain, and the segregation had been impossible to adhere to during the early colonial years. As such, the Ministry of Magic was more of a department in the Muggle government, and the existing wizards and witches had become so accustomed to this that 'Pureblood Fanaticism' only tended to rear its head among the more fanciful youth and migrants.

So the rather Muggle (and modern) college facilities hadn't been the only things to surprise Jeremy. The purebloods that hadn't acted anywhere near like Malfoy, the way _all_ the wizards and witches seemed to move between the two worlds almost seamlessly and effortlessly…

He turned and grinned happily at Hermione.

"I could get used to this," he quipped.

She smiled wryly, and continued on with her explanation of how a typical school day would run.

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'This must be heaven,' is what Jeremy had thought to himself as he marvelled at the utopia that was Washington State Academy, lost in the euphoria of his first day at a new school.

It had been perfect – a world where the worst arguments were about so-and-so cheating on their love interest. Jeremy had had some troubles with catching up on his Muggle subjects, but Hermione had been there every step of the way. A few days after he'd transferred, several students from Hogwarts had also turned up at WSA. These were students whose parents were rich enough to afford sending them overseas for an education, and had parents who were willing to send their child to a school that taught Muggle subjects.

Cedric Diggory raised his glass to Jeremy and nodded politely, then drained his glass of orange juice. Privately, he would admit that pumpkin juice really wasn't his thing, but to say that out loud would be… well, he wasn't quite sure _who_ it would be insulting, but he certainly didn't want to insult them, whoever they were.

Dumbledore smiled benignly from the staff table, eyes sparkling particularly when he gazed at Jeremy.

Jeremy's eyes widened when the sparkle of laughter in those blue eyes suddenly morphed into raging fury, the aged face lined not with laughter but with wrath, he blinked rapidly and the image was gone. What had that been? Jeremy shook his head slightly, as if to physically clear his head.

He looked at the others in the hall, and had to restrain himself from screaming when he saw corpse-like figures scattered intermittently through the crowd, their pallor and dulled eyes like those of a zombie. Jeremy clenched his eyes shut, whispering in head that this couldn't be happening, he wasn't going crazy, he wasn't…

"…Jeremy? Are you alright? Jeremy?"

Rubbing at his eyes, Jeremy opened them again and turned to face the voice. Hermione peered worriedly at him, and her eyes widened when she caught sight of something odd, something out of the ordinary, something that completely and utterly went against the things she believed in…

But they were in the Magical World, and rules were meant to broken.

"Your eyes!" She whispered, "Your _eyes_!!"

Panicking, heart racing, Jeremy tried to catch his reflection in the cutlery, in the smooth surface of his drink, anywhere...

"Oh sweet mother of…" He gasped, blinking rapidly and rubbing at his eyes as if it could change it, change it, make him wake up from this, what was going on?

"You're…"

Hermione and Jeremy peered at the reflection of Jeremy's eyes, the pupil-less eyes, the eyes that were pure orbs of white. Even the veins that ran through the whites seemed to have become bleached white, as if his eyes had been replaced with white ivory billiard balls.

"…a Seer," finished Jeremy, untraceable horror shivering through his body. A distant part of him wondered why he seemed to abhor being a Seer, but right now, all he could think was Oh no, no, no, no, NO!

Hermione bit at her lower lip and glanced about – through some stroke of luck, the others were all more focussed on eating and chatting with each other than to wonder why Jeremy was peering at himself in the back of a spoon. She whipped out her wand, muttered _Oculi Plasticus_, and conjured two brown-hued plastic contacts.

"Here," she muttered, proffering the contacts. "Put them on, quick."

Jeremy nodded and fumbled a little bit as he tried to discreetly put on the contacts.

"You'll have to order some from the Muggle world – these won't stay real for long…" murmured Hermione, as she fretted a little. "I think I can get Mum and Dad to order some for you, but…"

Jeremy blinked a little as his eyes watered in the presence of the plastic contacts, but eventually his eyes grew accustomed to the physical intrusion. "I can still see… _them_."

"See what?" Hermione sat up a little straighter and peered anxiously at Jeremy.

"Some… some of them… they're… I don't know, but… they look like zombies…"

At that, Hermione's eyes narrowed. "That can't be possible-"

"It's true! I'm not lying, I can see them-"

"No, not that…" She corrected him. "There hasn't been any history of Seers in your family, has there?"

He shook his head.

"Then it should be impossible for you to be _that_ sort of Seer – yes, I'm willing to concede they exist, considering your situation," she added a little testily. "The sort of Seer you're saying you are – those only turn up in families where almost all of them are Seers and strong ones at that!"

"…it doesn't change the fact that I can definitely see the lot of them… the… zombies… and what do you mean?"

Hermione impatiently tapped her fingers on the tabletop. "The kind of Seer you are – you can see what these people will become in some time in the future." She frowned. "And I assume that since you aren't looking at me like I'm some sort of monster that I'll be alive in however many years your seeing into the future."

Jeremy shivered as the full import of Hermione's words sank in. Those zombies weren't zombies – the people that had been sitting there before that had now been replaced by corpses would be dead sometime in the future when Hermione looked like she was twenty something and Dumbledore had turned into some sort of wrathful wizard.

"Oh Merlin…" He muttered hoarsely. "How do… how do I make it _stop_?!"

Hermione's face twisted in apology. "I don't know, Jeremy. I don't know," she repeated.

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Author's Notes: Sorry for the exceptionally late and short chapter – I'm currently going through end of high school assessment, so yeah, not much time left for me to work on this kind of project.

1. Belinda Eckhard – Teutonic names. Belinda: "beautiful snake". In Teutonic times, the snake signified wisdom, not treachery. Eckhard: "edge brave".

2. _Oculi__Plasticus_ – Oculi is plural for Oculus, an architectural term for a circular architectural feature, derived from the Latin word for 'eye'. _Plasticus_ is the Latin word that evolved from the Greek '_plastikos'_ meaning 'mouldable'. This conjuring spell requires some talent in mental imaging, as the mind needs to provide the stimulus for the item conjured.

3. Brands of Sight – there are several types of Seers.

Type 1 is the kind like Trelawney that sometimes blurt out a prophecy and have the talent to read clues in things like tea leaves (anyone can do that, but it requires real talent to be able to discern what is really there).

Type 2 is comprised of scryers that seek out visions of the future through use of objects like crystal balls and scrying bowls.

Type 3 is comprised of all the kinds of Seers that have a more subversive talent for the Sight, and it tends to encroach on the day-to-day life of the Seer in question.

In terms of control, the Sight is an inverse bell curve: Type 1 has a more 'chaotic' ability, while Type 2 is more 'controlled', while Type 3 is almost impossible to control.


	20. 20 Advantage

**Desiring Other Times**

Chapter 20 – Advantage

Disclaimer: You know you're addicted when you start reading all of these for funny things… No, no, NO! I don't own Harry Potter!!

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_It's time. Time to move through the world of magic again, time to start becoming someone as powerful as the wizard I should have been. Enough ambient magic has been flowing through me that I could put Dumbledore to shame, and I always knew having access to the Black library would be useful. _

_They'll call me a Squib that doesn't know my place. But I'll show them that I'm worth more than someone like Malfoy, more than my brother, even._

_I'll be incredible. I'll be legendary._

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"And that comes to one hundred and fifteen dollars. Are you paying by credit or cash?" The lady behind the counter looked at me expectantly, although a little twitching at her lips betrayed the fact that she was seriously wondering where my parents were.

"Cash, actually," I replied smoothly, and watched her eyebrows rise momentarily. I took out a wallet, pulled out two fifties and a twenty and laid them on the counter.

"Certainly…" She took the notes and rather clumsily worked at the teller. Most of the customers paid by credit card, but the optical store had been one of few in the area that accepted cash. Once she had put the money away and printed out my receipt, she slid the receipt into a plastic bag and handed it to me.

"Thankyou for choosing Eyecare Services, sir!" She parroted, but I was already slipping out the store.

"How did it go?" Hermione fell into step beside me when I exited.

"Fine. They managed to get them all made in time…" I replied, referring to the fact that I couldn't continue wearing the conjured contacts for much longer (they placed far too much strain on my eyes).

"Well? Are you going to show me?"

"Show you what?"

She huffed. "You wouldn't tell me what design you'd chosen. So?"

I grinned. "Hang on a bit, I'll put some in." I took out a box of contacts and a bottle of tear fluid. "Hold on to this, will you?"

A quick trip to the bathrooms, much fumbling with the contacts and I was back out again. Hermione stood up from the bench she had sitting on while waiting, and peered into my eyes.

"They're… _green_. You don't… _didn't_ have green eyes!" She exclaimed, rather unnecessarily.

"Of course. I always wanted eyes like Harry's…" Then grinned. "But I have other ones, too. Normal brown ones, and…" Fishing around in the bag, I pulled out one box. "Cat's eyes!"

Hermione quirked an eyebrow. Then she frowned. Then she glared at me. "Jeremy, are you _trying_ to freak someone out…?"

"Erhe… Of course not!" I blustered, not fooling anyone at all.

"Jeremy…" She muttered in a rather McGonagall-like tone, the tone that said You've-Done-Something-Wrong-And-I-Know-You-Know-I-Know.

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"Jeremy! What in Merlin's name do you _think_ you're doing?!"

Hermione's rather scandalised voice cut through the silence of the empty hall, and the robed figure at the Goblet of Fire froze.

"How do I say this…" Jeremy's voice was wry.

"I'm in half a mind to tell the Headmistress that you're trying to enter yourself in the Tournament!" She stormed up to Jeremy.

"Well, neither half of you will remember it!" Jeremy whipped around and pointed an unfamiliar wand at Hermione. "_Obliviate!_"

Hermione blinked, a little confused. Jeremy took the chance to stride across the Age Line – and remarkably, walk across it unscathed – and drop a piece of parchment in the Goblet.

Just as he let go of the parchment, Hermione blinked the last of the confusion away. "Jeremy! What in Merlin's name do you _think_ you're doing?!"

"Troublesome brat…!"

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"Hermione? Are you feeling okay?" I tugged at Hermione's sleeve, and she slowly turned to face me. I nearly gagged when I saw her face was twisted into a maniacal grin, one that I thought should belong only on the witch's face in Hansel and Gretel. The mask-like expression seemed to shimmer and it shifted as she moved, in such a manner that I was sure if she moved fast enough, she could leave the 'mask' behind and it would take a matter of seconds to catch up to her. I grimaced, and shut my eyes tightly, wishing, willing, _commanding_ the eyes to just stop telling the future.

"Jeremy? I… I thought… Where were…" Her voice seemed confused, utterly disorientated. I opened my eyes (thankfully, I could see normally again) and peered at her. She was blinking rapidly, and looked rather agitated. It was her eyes that clued me in to the fact that something _seriously_ wrong had happened, and she wasn't just acting weird due to lack of sleep.

Her eyes were covered in a sort of grey cloud, like cataracts except it was, well, _grey_. "We're going to the Sick Bay, Hermione." I told her in a hushed whisper, and dragged her out of the fourth year common area.

"Jeremy? Where are we going? Don't we have… um…" She continued speaking in half sentences the whole way, and it was with a very panicky expression that I burst into the Sick Bay and yelled for a nurse.

"Miss! There's something wrong with Hermione!" I bellowed, and some of the nurses turned to look at me. One stood up from her desk and waved away the others, who returned to whatever it was they were doing. The nurse approached Hermione and I.

She frowned when nothing conspicuously wrong seemed apparent, but I tapped just under my eye and she took a closer look at Hermione's eyes. Nurse Windham's own pair widened, then she frowned.

Windham straightened, and ushered Hermione to a bed. Hermione was still babbling brokenly, which only seemed to make Windham's jaw tighten. "Stay here with her, this is something the Headmistress needs to know about."

I nodded, a little confused. It wasn't like Hermione was missing an arm or a leg, and she only _seemed_ Confounded, in a general sort of manner. But Confounded people's eyes didn't turn grey, and they didn't speak in half-sentences as if they were losing their train of thought every ten seconds…

A few seconds later, Headmistress Eckhard swept in with Nurse Windham in tow. Windham was twisting her hands worriedly and seemed paler than before, neither of which reassured me at all.

Windham drew the Privacy Curtains about the bed, while the Headmistress drew up a chair, and peered into Hermione's eyes, lifting the eyelids gently to better see Hermione's eyeballs. She frowned even more as she listened to Hermione's continuing broken speech, then sat up. "She's been Obliviated."

"What?" I replied.

"Obliviated, had her memories removed, Mr. Potter. I'm sure they covered that in Charms at Hogwarts…"

"I know what Obliviated means, but how… how?" I gestured at Hermione, finding no words to phrase my question appropriately.

"Ah." Eckhard nodded. "A little… enchantment that is cast when any student signs the enrolment form. It allows for some protection against unsanctioned spells, and is only lifted when the student receives their graduation certificate and leaves the grounds."

My jaw dropped – enchantments like these actually existed? "So… can you… heal her? Find out who did this to her?"

Here, Eckhard and Windham exchanged unreadable looks. "Perhaps. How long has it been since you last saw her when she was 'normal'?"

I shrugged. "Last night. Before we went to bed."

A little silence.

"I found her this way this morning." I added.

"So sometime during the night, Miss Granger was Obliviated," mused Eckhard. "I will consult the records and check for unusual activity." She stood up, and nodded to Windham, then me. Taking one last glance at Hermione, Headmistress Eckhard slip past the curtains.

Windham sighed. "It would be best if you stayed – she is highly disorientated and will not take well to being left alone." I nodded. "I'll be back in a bit." She left as well, but was back within a minute, carrying a tray of potions, two pairs of thin plastic gloves and a few thin strips of white cloth that seemed to shimmer.

Setting the tray on the bedside table, she picked up a pair of gloves and held them out to me. "Put these gloves on." I did, and waited as she put on a pair as well.

"Tie this around her head so her eyes are covered," was the next instruction, and I took the strip of cloth.

"Won't she get even more nervous?"

"They're spelled so she can see through them. But we need to see when to change them, so they will be opaque to us."

I nodded, and continued to follow her instructions while she poured out some doses of potion. The cloth, apparently, helped leech out the magic that had modified her mind and also returned the enrolment enchantment to its normal state. The crystal blue potion calmed Hermione down, while the dull purple potion encouraged her magic to find any intrusions into her mind and expel them.

Windham disappeared after giving Hermione her first dose of potion, and returned twenty minutes later with a chart.

"As you can see on this chart, it shows when it is the ideal time to change the Leeching Cloth. Right now, the cloth is turning blue, and it will soon become dark green. Make sure to change it before it turns yellow."

I nodded, and she left, returning only once to deliver a bookbag. "Your dorm's house-elf collected the books you need for assignments," she explained. "The house-elves somehow know when you are unable to do your work and arrange for you to have access to the resources you need." Windham smiled wryly.

"Seriously?" I murmured, a little awestruck. I hadn't read about _this_ service in the pamphlets… And the sheer number of house-elves required for every dorm of six to have one house-elf… it amazed me every time.

"House-elves… I used to…" Hermione frowned behind the cloth.

"Used to what?"

"…I…"

"She thought they were slave labour." A new voice spoke up. I looked up, and saw Melinda Niven had slipped through the curtains and was standing a little nervously at the foot of Hermione's bed. "I got sent a message, that Hermione… took sick."

"She was Obliviated."

She blinked, her eyes widened, then she nodded. "I see… that would explain what those are for, then."

I stared at her. "Does this happen often? People Obliviating each other, I mean."

"Not really. I mean, it happens a bit. Just not as often as well, people Stupefying each other, at least." Noting that there weren't any spare chairs (I had taken the one Eckhard had vacated), she pulled out her wand and conjured one for herself.

Melinda was one of Hermione's dorm mates, and it seemed that Hermione got on better with her fellow dorm mates here at Washington Academy than back at Hogwarts. Granted, _anyone_ would be an improvement on Lavender, whose life goal seemed to be to memorise every bit of gossip there ever was and pass them on to everyone else.

At least, that's what I've _heard_ about the girl. Can't really say I know her that well.

"So what were you saying? She thought they were slave labour?"

Melinda shrugged and had a 'what-can-you-say' kind of expression on her face. "Most house-elves don't get pay, holidays or anything like that like working humans do. She didn't seem to quite get the fact that they're _happier_ that way, up until we asked if she would like it if aliens from outer space invaded and burned all the books and made it a law that no human was allowed to read."

I blinked. "How did that help?"

Melinda slapped a palm to her forehead in exasperation. "Because it… oh, never mind!"

I thought about what she'd said. "Ah! I get it, never mind."

She mumbled something under her breath, but didn't say anything.

"How long do most people take to heal? From this, I mean."

Melinda shrugged. "Most are released from the Sick Bay within a few hours, but some stay in here for a few days. Depends on how well the Memory Charm was done and how, um… how do I say this? Er… 'strong'? I guess that's an appropriate word… yes, well, it depends on how strong the victim's mind is."

"So the stronger, the faster she heals?"

She shook her head vehemently. "No, that's not it. The stronger, the slower, because… well, think about it this way. You have a cushion and a piece of wood. The cushion is softer, but it's easier to _break_ the wood."

I made a face at all the analogies. "How do you know all this?"

Melinda made a face, too. "You would too if your brothers had a habit of keeping secrets from everyone… not that they ever succeeded, of course."

"Brothers? You have brothers?"

"I said _had_ a habit of keeping secrets."

"Oh."

Uncomfortable, embarrassed silence filled the time as we waited for, well, _something_ to happen. I watched the cloth on Hermione's eyes turn topaz blue, while Melinda sat there pretending to read a book. Hermione had fallen silent long ago, and seemed to be sleeping.

"They were killed by You-Know-Who." She said, all of a sudden. "At least, they got killed by one of his followers. It was only two years ago, and they'd just graduated… they joined some vigilante group and hared off to Romania after a Dark Wizard. The government found them with the Dark Mark floating above their bodies."

I looked at my hands that lay clasped in my lap. What was there to say?

"I promised myself that when I graduated, I would find whoever killed them and make sure they would pay." Here, she looked fiercely at me, and the force of her gaze made me look up at her, to meet her eyes.

"When I found out Hermione Granger was your friend, I wasted no time becoming friends with her. Thankfully, she was someone I could actually become real friends with, and it wasn't a painful task. When I heard _you_ were coming here…"

I frowned at her. She had befriended Hermione so she could somehow make contact with me? Sure, they were friends now… or so she said. I fortified the Occlumency about my mind, and waited for Melinda to finish speaking.

"I know you're the Chosen One, Jeremy. I think we can help each other."

"What makes you think you can help me?" I challenged, demanded of her.

She didn't smile maniacally, she didn't smirk, she didn't do anything that set off alarm bells and flashing signs that read 'Evil Person Here'. Melinda spoke, and I couldn't find myself doing anything else other than listening to her.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Author's Notes: I'm building up slowly to my normal chapter length. Sorry for the long break, I'm experiencing technical problems and a rather hectic timetable even though I've just graduated.

1. Contacts – there are lots of things other than just stuffing a piece of plastic into your eye. You have to make sure your eye doesn't dry up (hence the tear drop bottles), and you have to put them in some cleansing fluid for the night. They're not infallible, and there are all sorts of weaknesses to contacts.

2. Hogwarts is a school of around 250 students, add magic to the mix and there's only one nurse at the Hospital Wing?! This is Washington Academy, and Muggles are more likely to attend due to the hybrid curriculum, so more students, meaning more nurses.

3. Melinda Niven – Melinda is a modern name derived from the combination of 'Mel' (from Melanie) and the popular name suffix 'inda'. Melanie means 'black'. My preferred etymology for Melinda is 'Mel' and 'Linda' (where Linda means beautiful), so Melinda is literally translated here as Beautiful Dark. Niven means 'servant of the saint'.


	21. 21 Tanked

**Desiring Other Times**

Chapter 21 – Tanked

Disclaimer: This text is a sneak peak of 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows'.

JUST KIDDING! I don't own this.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"_You're serious about this?"_

"_Perfectly serious, Mr Potter."_

"_Why are you doing this?"_

_Dumbledore's eyes stopped twinkling and he became very serious. "Because I believe you were not supposed to have lost your magic. Because I believe you are worth it. Because… I am sure that without your help, your skills, we will be severely disadvantaged in the war that will inevitably come."_

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Give me a _break_, will'ya?" Jeremy groaned to himself as he finished scrawling the closing sentences on a report, then turned to regard a rather sizeable heap of assignments still awaiting their completion.

Hermione looked over at him with a steely glint in her eye, but seeing his rather tired and wan appearance, she decided to forgo the lecture that had been building up in her mind. "Are you alright, Jeremy?" The words felt meaningless, but somehow, saying such a pointless phrase had become habit.

He looked at her. "No," replied Jeremy, releasing a frustrated breath, scowling as he began scribbling on the paper he had pulled towards him, something, _anything_.

An indecisive look settled on Hermione's face, and she wavered between offering her assistance and letting him work on the assignments himself. Finally, she decided that it wasn't as if Jeremy was being _lazy_, he was just… stressed.

Jeremy stopped writing rather abruptly. He blinked at his report, and Hermione could see his eyes scanning from the top to the bottom of the piece of paper, even though there _wasn't anything there_.

"Jeremy?"

A rather incredulous smile appeared on Jeremy's face. "It's not cheating, is it, if I can see what my essay is going to be like in the future?"

Hermione looked at Jeremy as if he was insane. There were all sorts of things that would prevent that happening, like paradoxes and stuff… right? As her mind chugged through all the possibilities, she absently noted that her mouth was running off everything she was thinking. "That's not possible, Jeremy… but… it's a paradox – you wouldn't be able to See that essay unless you were going to write it, but if you can See it, then you won't be 'writing' it, you'll just be copying it… but that… that's impossible!"

Jeremy shrugged. "Well, if it works, it works…" Carefully, he began tracing words that only he could see, and Hermione watched on as he wrote a report that, while it was of a standard that one could accept as having been written by Jeremy, certainly wasn't something he would be turning out in the state he was in.

'I wonder… if Jeremy has the Sight, and he's Harry's twin… would Harry have had?'

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Closing my eyes – the better to concentrate – I gathered a thread of Charm and Transfiguration magic, entwined them together and extended it out from my right side. The magic swirled and fought momentarily against my control, but soon it acquiesced and formed into an ethereal arm.

To my mind, if I didn't look at it, it was as if I really had an arm back. It reminded me of the phantom pain I had experienced all those years ago, except this time all I could feel was the slight movement of air over the 'arm', and feel the 'muscles' moving against each other as I shifted the arm about. Clenching the hand into a fist, I swung it sideways and it impacted against the solid stone wall to my side.

A huge torrent of grit and dust exploded from the wall, but the majority of the rubble had been flung away from me. The thunderous sound of my sudden demolition of the wall still echoed around the maze-like dungeon I had awoken to. A now healed wound at my neck still itched at times, but that was the least of my problems at the moment.

"You are an interesting boy, Mr Potter," hissed a sibilant voice from behind – it's always from behind, isn't it?

Slowly, deliberately, I turned about and matched eyes with a very corporeal Voldemort. He opened his mouth again, and I watched his glittering eyes glance over the scratch at my neck. Before, it had been a gaping wound that had been leaking copious amounts of blood, but somehow I had managed to wake up, somehow managed to heal myself.

"Yes… quite interesting. I suppose I must thank you for having supplied some rather… important ingredients required for my return. Malfoy certainly did his job well."

Several? Unbidden, various possible theories a human body could be used to remake the body of someone else flashed through my mind, but all I could think of was blood, just blood…

"Knowledge of your Animagus form, for example, and having you drink my blood."

What?

"Ensuring that he could retrieve several of your hairs when you were in vampire form." Voldemort continued to speak, seemingly delighted in causing confusion on my part, even though I struggled to prevent it from showing on my face.

"And in the end, he brought back your arm. Ah yes, certainly more reliable than his father."

What? Draco? How could he retrieve my arm? It was blasted apart, wasn't it? And…

"Why don't you come out, Draco? You've been complaining that everyone perceives you to be less intelligent than you really are…"

Footsteps, and I whirled around, mind completely befuddled by all of this. Draco stood there, whole, complete, _alive_. Rather than his customary "I'm-A-Bastard" smirk, his face was set in a rather bland expression, with the slightest hint of a smile.

"Hello, Harry."

I frowned. If I were to believe Voldemort, then it meant Draco had never died and that the entire Basilisk spectacle incident had been set up just so… I would lose my arm. But I had taken the information from Flitwick's mind!

"The Flitwick you retrieved the information from… was actually not Flitwick." Draco supplied rather casually, as if he could read my mind. "He was one of our plants, and this entire charade has been orchestrated by…" With a little of the panache I had grown to expect of him, he swept a hand from temple to thigh and bowed a little. "…me, me and… who else? Oh, _me_."

"Certainly more reliable than his father…" Voldemort hissed right at my ear, and I fairly jumped out of my skin as he brought a hand to my shoulder. "While you may feel used right now, Mr Potter, how about thinking about it as us _choosing_ you to help us bring this world out of the mire it has fallen into?"

I narrowed my eyes, and a sharp burst of Transfiguration magic expanded the air between his hand and my shoulder, flinging his arm back. Another burst simultaneously pushed Voldemort away from me.

Voldemort seemed to shrug it off as if it was nothing, which, I suppose, it was in the end. "You've thought it before – why are they showing my brother more respect when _I_ am more powerful, when _I_ am so much better than him?" His face sank into a deep scowl, and his next words were fury-etched. "It was mere chance that caused _that night's_ events to happen – if the incantation had only been a mere second later, the fluctuation in time and space would not have been there at that moment to cause my spell to go awry. Your brother is nothing special, Mr Potter, but you, _you _are certainly interesting."

"We can bring about a great future, Harry. My Lord has decided that what _really_ needs to be done is to make a new world. We will take all those that are worthy, and erase this one." Draco bowed slightly at 'My Lord', but his modulation and tone was even and measured, like the perfect subordinate.

I raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like Noah's Ark."

"That is the idea, after all."

"From a Muggle book?"

"The idea is sound. This world will be cleansed, and we will create a world where we will only rise ever higher. If need be, we will even save some of the Muggles that prove to be useful. It is not hard to respect their ability for innovation." Those words seemed very discordant with the image of Draco Malfoy that had been built up in my mind, but here he was, the words slipping from his mouth like syrup from a cut maple in harvest season.

For some reason, Voldemort's rather lengthy silence caused me to glance over at where he was, and I blinked when I realised he was no longer there.

I turned back to face Draco, but _he_ was also no longer there. I was alone now in the suddenly eerie dungeon.

"Time to smash some more walls in," I muttered under my breath. The steady sound of my fist impacting into the walls and the rubble falling to the ground did little to alleviate the tension in my body.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The sunlight almost blinded me as I stepped out from the dungeon, but that was not the only thing that disorientated me. I was at Stone Henge. _Stone Henge_. Only five hours ago, I had been in Eton. How in the nine hells of Dante did I end up at Stone Henge?! Not to mention I was quite certain that the chamber I had woken up in had been even _further_ away from Eton…

The pillars of stone rose graciously around my world, as I hastily cast about for something that would look familiar, anything…

Completely bewildered, I whirled about several times and only stopped when something _very_ unsettling appeared before my eyes that certainly hadn't been there the last time I had looked there.

Vampire Harry sat at the centre of the ring of stone, twirling a very familiar looking wand and seemingly impervious to the sun that flooded the area.

"How are you here?" I asked, befuddled and so tired of all of this.

"I'm here because you're here."

"No, I mean… how can you be outside of my head?"

"Because this is Stone Henge. Because there is so much magic here that even in the state you're in, I can materialize out here. Along with anything I thought to hide away inside that head of yours."

"I thought my wand was destroyed… they brought me the-"

"They brought you pieces of wood and feather that could have belonged to any holly tree and any long dead bird. Draco Malfoy's real _trick_ was in making you draw the magic out of everything near you and causing a warp that would take him and your arm out of Hogwarts. Anything they picked up at the scene had no magic in it at all."

"So why would they bring me a fake?"

"The professors wouldn't know it to be a fake. Draco left it behind, thinking your wand would be completely vaporised. That boy…" Vampire Harry shook his head, perhaps in awe, perhaps something else that I really couldn't be bothered thinking of right now.

"For now… let's just get you home." Vampire Harry was suddenly no longer sitting seven feet away, he was now standing a foot and a half away. Smoothly, he slid my wand down the front of my pyjamas, then stepped into me. Grey mist wrapped about me, and then we were gone.

When I woke up again, I was back at Eton. The time? Merely seven hours after I had laid to rest in my bed. It was morning outside, but no-one would have thought me to be missing…

Had Draco actually been smart enough to know my Vampire form would show up at Stone Henge and take me back to Eton? The sheer contrast between the Draco I had known while attending Hogwarts and this new (and _alive_) Draco that had appeared had my common sense at odds with itself.

But then I remembered what had happened on the train just earlier this year. Crabbe had turned out to be far more intelligent than he had let on. And Slytherin was the house for cunning, for a brand of intelligence that was far different from the bookish smarts of Ravenclaw.

Absent-mindedly, I ran a finger over all that remained of the wound at my neck. Now, it was merely a thin line that practically faded away as I brushed over it.

Sighing softly, I tottered over to my desk and pulled out a sheet of paper from the ream that sat in the printer.

_Something has happened, I need to speak with you **now**._

I tore off the strip of paper from the head of the sheet, and put it in Mittere's mouth. "For Dumbledore," I murmured to my owl, and he flew out the window.

For lack of anything to do, I turned my computer on and waited for it to finish loading. After logging in, I brought up my email program as was my habit, and waited for it to finish retrieving my email.

To: Potter, Harry James (hjpotter domain hidden )

From: You Know Who (no email address provided)

CC/BCC: None

Subject: None

Received: xx:xx, xx/xx/xxxx

I'm not _that_ You Know Who, I am the other 'you know who'.

Join us.

I can bring your arm back.

And we can bring this world to a revolution that it has never seen before.

D

The rather short email had me looking at it as if Draco was insane. Here he was being the rather cliché evil, trying to bring me over. Where had all the brilliance from before gone? Or was he expecting me to think him to be less intelligent than he had shown himself, and attempt to double-cross him?

I massaged my temples as they began to pound with all the double-thinking I was doing. Waking up to a severe wound, then breaking out and finding I had been used to bring back Voldemort and that Draco had pulled the strings of an incredible scheme… and _then_ ending up at Stone Henge and being forcefully Shadow Warped back to Eton.

Tired beyond all belief, I struggled from my pyjamas and into my uniform… With a clatter, my wand fell to the ground, and after a moment's hesitation, I picked it up and slid it into a pocket in my uniform.

Who knows, maybe an unnatural Squib like me could draw on the magic it channelled…

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Dumbledore let loose a despairing sigh. He was the only one of the Hogwarts staff at Washington Academy – there was no McGonagall to confide in or Snape to banter with or Hagrid to provide support.

Harry's very short message had smelt of Blood Magic and of vampires. The only way something like this could have happened was if someone had abducted him and involved him in a blood ritual of some sort. And the only person that would do something like that and still return him… would be Voldemort.

"Albus?" Headmistress Eckhard jolted Dumbledore out of his stupor. "What's going on, Albus?"

"He's back, Belinda. We are-"

"-completely screwed." A new voice issued in the room, and the two whirled around to face…

Draco Malfoy.

"You're… you're that-"

"Draco Malfoy at your service, madam." Draco turned to Dumbledore and with a steely glint in his eyes, nodded at somebody behind Dumbledore.

Goyle wrapped his strong arms around Dumbledore, and then thick cords wrapped about the Headmaster. Similarly, Crabbe did the same to Eckhard. "You won't be going anywhere anytime soon, Headmaster and Headmistress." Draco smirked softly. "We'll be having you _sleep_, now…" As Draco spoke, Crabbe and Goyle pulled out a pouch of powder and opened it, causing the fine dust to cascade over Dumbledore's and Eckhard's face.

Falling into a deep stupor, Dumbledore noted that Goyle seemed to have pulled some of his hair out, as had Crabbe with Eckhard.

What was going on?

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Author's Notes:

Hopefully this is an interesting character, and _no_ I am not bending to the will of my readers when I wrote that Draco scene.

Yes, Voldemort is back far, far earlier than expected. The Triwizard tournament will now be held amongst all the fear and paranoia of 'The Order of the Phoenix' year, although it won't be as widespread as in 'Half Blood Prince' (for obvious reasons).

Slytherins deserve more credit. That is my belief, but I won't be pumping up all of Slytherin. Just Crabbe, Goyle and Draco.

Oh and the title for chapter 19, "Parcae", actually _means_ something. For the love of god, I did not make that word up.


	22. 22 The Jigsaw

**Desiring Other Times **

Chapter 22 – The Jigsaw

Disclaimer: You've heard it once, you've heard it a million times, I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER. TT

A/N: Apologies for the late update.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

_When you dream of the future, you see a wonderful world where you're a fantastic person with a decent career, a partner, some children (if you like them), and all your friends living the same perfect lives. When I dream of the future, all I can think is 'I want to die'. _

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Many, many hours had passed since I had 'returned' from god knows where, and still Dumbledore had not replied. Mittere was a very reliable owl - and somehow he could manage to transport messages halfway across the world in three hours. But my owl had not returned, and there was no sign of him.

With a sigh, I trudged along to my next class, and vaguely noted that Finch-Fletchley was looking at me in a rather concerned manner. Ever since we had started at Eton, the boy had watched me far too closely for my comfort, and part of me wondered if Dumbledore had assigned him here as surveillance.

A wave of exhaustion billowed through my mind and I wavered, leant against the age-old glass that was thinner at the top than the base, drifting from lucidity into darkness with explosions of light on the sky that were the insides of my eyelids, sparkling like dust. Tired, so very tired, and I could feel my Vampire form coiling about inside of me, and hear someone drop their books to the ground and hurry to my side, their footsteps shaking the planks of wood and sent shuddering waves through my suddenly sensitive body.

"Harry! Harry! _Harry_!!" Finch-Fletchley's voice echoed throughout my ears, but it faded away as I segued, the pounding of his voice replaced by the buzzing of many voices that affected me like opium smoke. This had to be a dream, since my Vampire form had always resided in my magic, but that was gone now, right? But then again, how had he appeared that time when I was at Stone Henge? I had no idea of anything, and the only words resounding through my mind was that I really, really didn't need this happening now, not so soon, not ever really.

The dust light disappeared and now I could see… something? Flashes of different scenes, I could see Finch-Fletchley casting some sort of spell on me (probably _Enervate_?) and growing more frantic each time a new freeze frame of Eton appeared, scattered as they were within the other images that were inundating my mind.

An old man walking down the lane-

-a young family buying groceries-

-a young girl falling to the ground in a dead faint-

-two unconscious people of rather advanced age, with their twins standing over them and-

Dumbledore. That was Dumbledore. But the image had disappeared, had been drowned in flashes of other mundane scenes.

Focus, focus, _focus_, remember his waist long beard, his eerily blue eyes behind disguising half-moon glasses, the chaotic robes he had worn, that grandfather's voice (even if he'd never met his grandfather, either of them), that voice that made him want to surpass everyone's expectations…

Instead, there was a waxen face, white as the sun on a clear day… With slits instead of nostrils and glimmering red eyes filled with malice, the dramatically hissed voice sent shivers through Harry's body, wracking his frame with uncontrollable quivering.

_You've lost, little boy… both your brothers will become your enemy – one will kill those dear to you and you will be forced to end their existences…_

"NO!" Harry shrieked, flinging his arms before him reflexively, as if to physically cast away the vision. He wouldn't kill them, he wouldn't ever do anything like that to his family… flesh of his flesh, blood of his blood, even if they didn't really like each other… he couldn't imagine himself ever… ever mortally harming either of his brothers. There was just something inherently _wrong_ with the idea.

_Oh, but you **will**, boy… you will… Because there is no escaping fate…_

Fate? Harry growled, grimaced, and let loose a yell that shook his most primal instincts, resonated and energized them. _I… **refuse**… your future!_

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Falling, endless falling, my hair whipping about my face… and then swooping up, a golden egg cradled in my arms, the roar of an enraged dragon echoing in my ears but sounding eerily dampened. These eyes of mine truly were an unfair advantage; while raising and lowering the amount of magic that flowed through my eyes, I could see further or less (or none, if I lowered it enough) into the future, and I had seen dragons chasing after the other champions… funnily enough, I hadn't seen myself, but at the very least, the first Task had been revealed to me. And it made predicting where the dragon was going to attack child's play.

"…and Jeremy Potter has retrieved the egg in record time! Amazing, simply amazing flying – are you watching, Viktor Krum? This could be a future rival!"

Jeremy grinned broadly; now _this_ was the sort of attention he was used to… and so long as he had these eyes, whatever trouble he ever faced would never catch him unawares. A wave of weariness swept over him and he blinked rapidly. At least, he'd be prepared as long as he didn't fall asleep just when he needed to act!

Feeling exhaustion starting to creep upon him, Jeremy began forcefully and deliberately sending magic to circulate around his body, to temporarily boost his energy. Unwittingly, a lot of magic started flooding his eyes, and the scene that met his eyes was the first one he'd ever had that also contained him.

His two brothers and he, standing in a triangle, facing outwards, shoulder to shoulder. Matthew and he brandishing their wands proudly and Harry also with one arm outstretched, a bracelet that glowed as fiercely as the tips of their two wands. Strangely enough, Harry had two arms, but that detail left Jeremy's mind as the trio raised their magical focus to the sky, the light bursting out suddenly to envelope the three. Three pillars of light burst from the blinding cloud and rose to the sky, twining around each other until they formed one, and the spear of light pierced the sky.

With a gasp of vertigo, Jeremy tumbled to the grass and he vaguely noticed that people were surrounding him, shouting at him, and their presence pressed in on him, suffocated him, until he closed his eyes and wished himself into unconsciousness.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"I don't believe you. That's impossible." The words were spoken with such conviction, but they stemmed from fear, from irrepressible fear. Such a seeming paradox, but once one realised they weren't spoken to convince the listener but to comfort the speaker, it was all too easy to pity the man.

"You do. You just wish it weren't so. And you think that if you deny it hard enough, if you pray hard enough, that if you close your eyes you'll wake up from this nightmare. But you believe me, oh yes you do, you're not stupid."

"Get out. I don't want to listen to your daft rambling. Aurors! Escort him out."

"Cornelius-"

"No."

A sigh. The chair ground backwards, and Dumbledore stood. "Very well." A rather dangerous looking grin spread across his face, and Fudge recoiled at the expression.

"You're not-"

"No, I'm not. _Imperio_."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Matthew traced a thumb in an intricate pattern against the inside of the glass, and watched in satisfaction as the window began hissing and glowing where he had run his thumb over it. Eventually, the entire glass pane glowed hot red before melting and collapsing extravagantly. The Hufflepuff ethic combined with his Ravenclaw-worthy intelligence, Slytherin-esque innovation and Gryffindor-like confidence had been incredibly beneficial. Everybody in the castle expected him to cause as much havoc as his brothers, and he was going to oblige them. Painfully, if need be, but he was going to prove that he was better than both his brothers. And if that meant gaining the attention of the most powerful wizards and witches in the world, then so be it. He was going to be capable of defeating Voldemort before Jeremy, he was going to be more notorious than either of his brothers…

Matthew was going to prove to the world that he was better than them all. And if that meant playing god…

_…then so be it_, he thought with more than a little touch of melodrama.

-and Harry awoke, sitting up so fast his head spun. While he looked calm on the outside, perspiration dotted his face and neck. _His brother. Matthew. They all just wanted to prove themselves, and look where it was sending them._

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

It should be obvious by now that Harry sees the 'present', Jeremy sees the future… and that Matthew will see the 'past'. If you didn't understand that, go read something else. This story is going somewhere, and no, Harry hasn't become second string to Jeremy in this story. This fanfiction is about _Harry_, not his brothers which are Original Characters. For those of you who don't believe me, I don't care what the hell you think.


End file.
